To Answer the Call of The Dark
by nyx thranduillon
Summary: Darker Sequel to The Loss. A/U Although back home Legolas can not shake off the guilt of killing his former mentor becomes more and more reckless in his search for peace. Feeling abandoned by his best friends a burden to his father he becomes driven to rediscover the voice in the dark which is the only thing that can ease his wounded heart,or is it? Contains disturbing themes.
1. Chapter 1

**To Answer The Call Of The Dark**

**Chapter 1**

Silent as a shadow the slender elf slipped through the trees, passing from one bough to the next with nary a rustle to show he was there. Feeling the quickened beating of his heart within his chest he revelled in the excitement of the hunt and picked up the pace when he caught sight of his prey in the distance, smiling to himself keenly. They did not know he was there yet, but soon, oh soon he would show himself, and then it could begin. He shivered in anticipation, reached for the twin knives strapped to the quiver on his back and curled his fingers around the ivory hilts, almost in a caress. He moved closer, watching the dark shapes as he noiselessly manoeuvred into position above them, savouring the moment as his heart fluttered ever more wildly in excited expectation.

As the tension building within him reached a thrilling peak the young warrior atop the tree tilted his head back, opened his mouth and emitted a wild howl to the sky before dropping down upon the dark creatures below in a lethal flurry of silver, gold and green. Blades sliced through corrupted flesh, with practised precision in moves designed to cause as much pain and suffering as possible as the elf twisted and turned, around and about his enemies. Mocking taunts and expletives spilled from lips seemingly too fair to utter such expressions as the uneven fight progressed and the enemies grew fewer and fewer. He began to slow, a slight hesitation before blocking the curved scimitar slicing towards his forearm, a faint pause before sidestepping the stab of a short sword meant to open his guts, almost as if willing his opposition to catch him out, wishing to feel the bite of steel upon pristine flesh. A teasing dance with death as his partner.

A hiss of pain and his lips turned up to smile into the face of the beast whose scimitar, now stained with the bright red of blood, had found its mark deeply within the elf's left shoulder.

"Hannon Le, Thank you."

The sighed whisper caused a frown to crease the orcs ugly countenance before, with a flash of silver, the frown was dissected and the creature fell to the ground, pawing at its face and writhing in agony. For a moment the elf stood still, eyes closed, breathing deeply, feeling the wounds pain and allowing it to grow with a fierce need to feed off its intensity. Cumbersome movement to his left brought him back to the fight and dropping the knife from his now useless left hand he swung the remaining weapon round in a slicing arc with a force strong enough to split the newcomer in two at the waist. Following around to spin full circle he then raised the blade high, flipped it to change grip and falling to his knees, brought it, point down to stab through the heart of the beast still groaning at his feet. Swift as thought he was once more upright and smiling ferally as yet another of the foul beasts appeared before him and he invited it to attack.

"Legolas!"

An arrow whistled past the elf's head to embed itself between the eyes of the creature sneaking up behind him.

"Legolas!"

Another arrow pierced the chest of the enemy he was about to gut.

"LEGOLAS!"

The call of his name once more went unheeded as the whirling figure turned, long knife descending in a killing strike, to find himself staring into bright green eyes opened wide in terror and he felt the metallic jarring kiss as blade met blade.

Dark blue eyes narrowed in anger as, with a flick of the wrist, his opponent was disarmed, then glanced from side to side, seeking out the next, only to find none were left standing except the auburn haired elf before him and he snarled in frustration before his eyes glazed over and, with a blissful smile, he smoothly collapsed at the wood elf's feet.

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The huddled figure shivered and pulled the edges of his well worn cloak closer together, trying to ignore the icy water sheeting down from the storm darkened sky. Muttering imprecations under his breath he pushed back against the hard, unforgiving surface behind him in a desperate attempt to gain shelter from the slim overhanging shelf above his head and wondered, not for the first time, just what he was doing there.

Fifteen years, had it been fifteen years? His mind wandered, forgetting the rain soaking through his clothes and into his core. Fifteen years since his life was turned upside down and all that he had believed to be true had proved a lie. He sighed, feeling again the confusion, pain and anger of betrayal that had caused him to run, like a startled deer, away from all he had known, after lashing out with angry words intended to wound as he had himself felt wounded. His heart lurched as he recalled once more the tirade that had tumbled from his lips, the look of pain in deep brown eyes before him and the beseeching cry of his name as he had ridden away without a backwards glance. Tears filled his eyes. Oh, how he longed to take it all back, to feel the strong arms of his father around him once more in a comforting embrace, hear the joyous tinkle of his brothers laughter as he fell foul of their wicked sense of humour, yet he could not. How could he after throwing everything they had done for him back in their faces with such contempt? Rain mingled with the tears, running down his face unhindered as he thought of home. Home. A fist gripped at his heart and twisted. He had no home now, that bridge had been well and truly burned, he would not be welcome there again, he could no longer call Imladris home. Thunder rolled through the air as the storm increased but the figure did not hear its call. Lost within his memories the weather battered the weary body without yet he heeded it not.

A sudden sharp prick of pain under his unshaven jaw brought awareness flooding back. A grimy hand tightened its grasp on the hilt of the sword he had lain in readiness across his legs in the event of trouble and steel grey eyes flew open to confront this latest foe, whilst inwardly cursing that he should let his guard down so far in his misery as to allow an enemy to get so close without warning.

"Caught off guard, Ranger?"

The low, musically lilting words accompanying the unwavering point of the blade at his throat made the young mans eyes widen in surprise and fear and his grip on the sword tightened as a second, night black apparelled figure stepped into view from behind that of the first and he found himself transfixed by identical darkly gleaming stares.

"Elladan, Elrohir." The young man tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement. "What brings you out on a night such as this, my lords?" He warily eyed the duo as the night was split by another bolt of lightening behind their heads, adding to the menace of their appearance.

"You, tithen muindor, little brother." Withdrawing the sword and replacing it in the scabbard at his side the eldest of the pair smiled, then, in tandem with his twin, squatted down to face the human. "You have led us on a merry dance Estel."

The man stiffened as he heard the elvish name, the memory of his perceived betrayal returning.

"My name is Aragorn," he forced out through teeth clenched both with anger and cold. "Estel was but a dream conjured by your father." The bitterness in his words was as much a surprise to himself as to the pair before him.

"Nay, not a dream but a reality bought of need," the rebuke in the softly spoken manner of the younger twins reply was apparent. "You know this in your heart _muindor_."

Elrohir moved to sit beside the young man, snaking an arm around his shoulder before pulling him in to place a chaste kiss upon his brow. Initially stiffening, Aragorn found himself drawn into the twins embrace, finally relaxing to rest his head upon the half elf's shoulder as he felt the unconditional love emanating from the one still naming him brothers touch. Tears began to trace their way down his cheeks and as the dam of his pent up emotions burst, they turned to great sobbing gulps, wracking his frame as his brother held him tightly, uttering soothing words and stroking his hair as if he were once again a child afraid of the monsters under his bed.

The twins shared a smile over the young mans head and, ignoring the rain still pouring down from the stormy sky, Elladan also lowered himself to sit beside his brothers and await the tempest within to calm.

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"Ernillen! My Prince!"

A small band of elven warriors gathered around the fallen prince and their captain, who was on his knees now, deft fingers exploring the unconscious form for injuries, forming a lethal barrier in case of further attack. It was never wise to relax ones guard within the once great forest since spiders, orcs and other dark creatures had made it their home.

Once satisfied that the single wound had been discovered and bound the auburn haired elf stood and, looking sadly down upon his friend and commander, sighed. This was becoming a regular occurrence and he was beginning to wonder if it was time to bring his concerns to the king. Bending down to lift the slight figure into his arms he marvelled again at how light the prince seemed to have become over the past few years, before straightening up and with a nod of the head, giving the order to move off, back to the safety of the halls once more.

"Haruon," jiggling the prince within his grip he turned to the warrior on his right. "Run ahead and warn the healers of our coming," he smiled as the elf's face fell. " If you are careful you can speak to Fearvel, without having to see the king." His understanding tone brought a small smile to the warriors lips.

"Aye, Captain"

It would be almost impossible to avoid Thranduil if he espied someone from his sons patrol returning but as Haruon jogged away he was already planning the most subtle way of gaining entry to the healers rooms without being spotted.

Wondering how the band of orcs had managed to get so close to the Halls and turning the problem of how to deal with the elf presently in his arms over in his mind, the Captain lead the small patrol silently through the forest and hoped that they had a peaceful journey back home.

TBC

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**A/N**

Well, here we go again. I did say a sequel might be forthcoming and the plot bunnies just wouldn't let me be. This one is going to get somewhat darker than The Loss and I can't promise a happy ending at this stage but certainly will do my best. At the moment I have two endings written and it will very much depend on how the rest of the story develops as to which I use. That, and the fact that I have been a little lax with the timeline and Aragorn's running out of Imladris in a fit of pique is why I have labelled it AU.

As with The Loss, I shall aim to update weekly as although the first few couple of chapters are written already and the plot is generally set it remains very much a work in progress.

Sorry, to have gone on so much, I will stop now and just say Thanks for reading and of course...

PLEASE REVIEW!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_._

_"Where are you?" _

_"Why can I not find you"_

_Almost, but not quite, I feel the serenity I crave yet this twilight grey will not bring what I need. My heart calls out for more, for the grey to darken, fade to the blackness where I know you hide but it is not to be. Not this time. This hurt was not enough. _

_Colours begin to seep into the world around me as awareness returns. I try to resist, to force them back, yet it is a futile hope and as I begin to wake I vow that next time I will make it. Next time will take me deeper. Next time I will reach the darkness that will cleanse me. Next time I will find you, and peace._

_._

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_._

Deep blue eyes opened to reveal the high ceiling of the healing room overhead and Legolas felt a pang of loss for something just out of reach as consciousness returned. A slight noise alerted him to another's presence and he turned his head to find himself under the watchful eyes of his father's head healer.

"You have returned to us again ernilen, my prince" Though kindly spoken the words managed to hold a gentle rebuke and Legolas was unsure if the elf was referring to his awakening or his presence itself.

"Aye, Fearval," the prince decided to go with the former, "how long have I been out?"

"If you are referring to your present stay, it is only half a day," the healer held out a previously unnoticed cup and watched as Legolas manoeuvred himself into a sitting position. "If you mean how long is it since we were last graced with your presence here, not long enough."

Eyebrows raised as he once more proffered the cup which Legolas accepted with a grimace.

"Not another of your foul concoctions, please master healer." Glancing down at the vessel the prince was surprised to see what appeared to be clear liquid only within its shell shaped body.

"Simply water this time I'm afraid." A smile crossed the healers face as he noted the princes disbelieving reaction. "Honestly, ernilen, 'tis just cool water to quench your thirst."

Legolas lifted the cup and carefully sniffed at it before placing it to his lips to taste. His eyes widened as he found no taint of herbs than he quickly drained it whilst the other watched with a benevolent air.

"Hannon le, Fearval," the prince nodded in gratitude then handed the cup back. "Now, I must make room for someone more needy of your care."

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed he went to stand but was stopped by the gentle yet firm hand that was placed upon his right shoulder.

"You should not be in such a hurry, ernilen, I would prefer to keep you for another day to ensure your healthy recovery and I'm sure the king would rather you stayed under my care a little longer."

"I feel that is hardly necessary for a scratch such as this, healer." The retort was somewhat sharper than he intended but Legolas softened his tone to continue, "I am sure you mean well, but I feel fine now and assuredly there is no need to worry the king unnecessarily, when it is such a minor wound."

Legolas opened his sky blue eyes wide, making him appear as young and innocent as an elfling again. He knew the healer could never say no to this well practiced expression.

"Oh, very well," the healer gave in as he had so many times in the past. "Only promise me to take more care in the future. I do not want to see you back here for a very long time."

"Of course, Fearval,"

As the healer turned away he did not notice that the smile spreading across the princes face failed to reach those widened eyes.

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"So, how are you enjoying the life of a ranger?"

Three figures sat around a small fire, finishing the remainder of the stew prepared from a brace of rabbits caught that afternoon.

"'It suits me well enough," The young man finally replied to his elder brother after swallowing his last mouthful and licked his lips appreciatively. "Gods 'Dan, I had forgotten just how good you can make coney taste."

"I have always said his talents are wasted as a warrior Estel," The younger twins eyes twinkled in the firelight as he leaned over to avoid the punch now aimed his way from the older.

"Ah, but you would starve without me, muindor." Elladan replied with a smile. "Your own efforts being inedible, even for yrk."

Silvery laughter filled the air and the young man felt his heart relax as the twins continued their teasing banter. He had not realised just how much he had missed their playful ways, or even just their company. The days since they found him, huddled like a drowned rat in the rain had been like a balm to his wounded spirit. To know that they still accepted him, loved him even, as their brother, had gone some way to lifting the weight that had begun to press down upon him with increasing force over the last few years.

"I imagine you have missed the comfort of a warm bed though, eh?" Elladans voice broke through his thoughts and he looked over to see two pairs of expressive, brown eyes watching him questioningly.

" There is no denying that the ground can be a little hard at times, yes." He answered with a grimace." But a sweet hayloft can be just as dry and comfortable, and I have, on one or two occasions, had the dubious pleasure of partaking of an Inns hospitality." He smiled brightly, trying not to think on where this conversation may be leading.

"Yet there is nothing like your own bed, is there muindor?" Elladan looked at his twin.

"Nay, nothing quite like it," replied the younger, then cheekily added, "unless it be that of some lusty young maiden of course."

Laughter rang out once more at the ribald comment that conjured up fond memories for each of the three brothers and for the next few moments the conversation descended into lewd statements, stories and innuendo, although they were all careful to mention no names. It was the older twin who broke the mood and suddenly broached the subject they had been, up to now, carefully avoiding, in his usual forthright manner.

"Will you not come home, Estel?"

The words hung in the air between them, large enough as to be almost tangible and the three sat in silence as if afraid to admit their presence.

"I, " the young man eventually attempted to reply but had to swallow the lump that had somehow formed in his throat, "I, am not sure," he eventually managed to squeeze out, "that I still have a home." Suddenly feeling small and lost again he lowered his gaze, and pulled his feet towards him, encircling his knees with his arms.

"Oh, Estel," Elrohir's eyes moistly glistened in the firelight. "Nothing has changed, Imladris is still your home." Shuffling on his behind, over to his human brother to place an arm around slumped shoulders he looked to his twin and saw the same sorrow in his expression as pulled at his own heart.

"Ada, wants you to come home, Estel," Elladan moved to the young mans other side, mirroring his brother's position, "'Tis the reason we have been searching for you." He reached out to place slender fingers under the lowered chin and lifted it up to meet his own gaze.

"But I said such awful things." Estel's voice was cracked with emotion, "How can he still want me after that?" Silver eyes bore into deepest brown, desperately trying to read the truth, yet afraid of what they may see.

"A fathers love does not wax and wane Estel," Keeping their eyes locked Elladan poured every ounce of feeling he had into getting his brother to accept his words as truth. "He loves you still, as he always has and always will, no matter what you may do or say. That will never change."

Fingers moved gently from their place under the young mans chin to softly caress his weatherbeaten cheek.

"Please Estel. Come home with us. Ada needs to see you are safe and well." He smiled and suddenly Estel wondered how he could have doubted his family's love.

"Aye," The single word was all he could manage to vocalize as his throat choked once more and tears rained down anew from eyes sad with longing.

"And, of course," The older twin continued. "We need you too."

"Before we expire from boredom." Elrohir rolled his eyes theatrically, "It has been much too quiet without you these past years Estel."

"What you really mean is that everyone else has had enough of your pranks 'Roh," The young man managed a small chuckle and pushed the younger twin away playfully. "How many times have you been threatened with death by Glorfindel ?"

"Not as many as by Erestor, actually." Elladan joined in.

"Even quiet little Lindir lost his temper after the last time we removed the strings from his harp."

"And ada, refused to speak to us for a week after we replaced all of the sugar in the kitchens with salt."

Soon all three were crying, but this time with laughter as the twins described their recent antics in great detail and Estel found himself looking forward to going home for the first time since his hasty departure, in what felt like a lifetime ago.

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**A/N**

Awww, isn't it nice to end on a happy note for once. Nothing like lulling the readers into a false sense of security hehehe!

Thanks to all of you who have popped in to read and especially those who have followed and favourited. Special thanks also go to high funcioning fangirl, Nocx and Teapot of Transformation for taking the time to review. It's much appreciated guys. :)

I know its early days yet but a few words of encouragement always go down well so please let me know what you think so far.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Doronor frowned as he watched the young archer fletching arrows across the camp fire, the shifting flames bathing him in an unearthly red glow. There was something about the concentrated expression on his face that worried the captain although he could not pin point exactly what it was. He sighed and shook his head. Maybe he was worrying over nothing, he thought, maybe he was trying to read something that was not there. Standing he decided to circle the camp to ensure that all is was it should be and distract his over worked mind.

.

The prince watched the captain walk away with a sigh, he had thought he would never leave. The penetrating gaze focused upon him had begun to unnerve the usually collected young elf. A quick mental count told him that he had more than enough arrows to fill his quiver and he ran his fingers absentmindedly over the expertly tied feathers as he envisioned where each of them would find their targets, feeling his heart beat quicken in anticipation. Raising his eyes to scan the camp he made a mental note of where each warrior had settled his bedroll for the night before freeing one of his long knives from its scabbard and delving into the small pouch he habitually carried at his belt, for his whetstone. Settling back against the small rock behind him, he began lazily honing the blade, whilst allowing his mind free reign to work out the best way to leave the encampment without being noticed or alerting the sentries.

.

The patrol had been sent to scout the nearest border of the forest for signs of orc activity and thus far there had been neither sight nor sound of the dark creatures. Used to being away from their friends and families for much longer and at far greater risk when on duty deep to the south, Doronor and the other warriors appeared to be enjoying the shorter, less stressful foray somewhat but Legolas knew that it would not be long before the inactivity began to tell and tempers frayed. He also knew who they would begin to blame for being kept, like sheltered novices, closer to the halls and away from the darker, more dangerous areas of his beloved forest, where they were really needed.

.

He had ever taken great pride in the fact that his patrol were always in the forefront of the battle to protect the realm and they, in turn, had always been proud enough of him to follow wherever he led. That had all changed however since the affair with Lhosson and the plot to overthrow his father. Not that anything had been said directly of course but he could see it in their eyes. A wariness when they looked at him as if weighing him up and finding him wanting. It did not help of course that Doronor had been promoted and given captaincy of the company whilst Legolas has been kept within his fathers halls, to 'assist with running the realm' for five years until he had he had literally begged to be allowed out on patrol again, his father only submitting in guilt, after another, tense stand off, on the proviso that he was to be under Doronors command and they were to cover close patrols only.

.

This perceived loss of their respect and loyalty was eating away at his insides like a parasite. That it was born of his own minds making never entered his thoughts. A perfectionist by nature he measured himself far stricter against his own expectations than any other and he had failed to meet those impossibly high standards thus relegating himself to the lowest order in his own eyes and therefore, it stood to reason, also in everyone elses.

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Checking the blade against his thumb he stared at the thin line of blood drawn by its sharpened bite, watching it well slowly into a scarlet bead, before wiping it onto his leggings, to leave behind a rusty smear. Deciding that one was sharp enough he replaced it in its ornate scabbard and withdrew its twin and as his hands worked mechanically his mind wandered back over the last time he had seen his father.

.

_Thranduil stood in front of the giant throne, drawn up to his full height, looking his most regal in formal robes, his winter crown of berries and evergreens seated squarely over his forbidding brow, and Legolas watched as the merchant standing before him, trembled under the kings wrathful gaze._

_"You promised forty barrels, and were paid accordingly" The kings mellifluous voice rang through carved rafters, "We received thirty eight and of those half were more vinegar than wine." _

_"Please, your most wonderful majesty," The portly merchant cowered, his voice oily and obsequient. "I can assure you the forty barrels that left my establishment were all of the highest quality." He smiled ingratiatingly. "The carriers must have tampered with the load, sire. By your leave I will find them and rectify this matter as soon as I am able." _

_"Hah! " The kings eyes blazed with fury. "More likely you will disappear with my money, never to be seen again." He stalked closer to the trembling merchant and thrust his face into the others. "You will not leave here until I am satisfied!"_

_"Aran nin, my king, if I may." Standing to one side of the throne Legolas had been watching his father silently all morning, waiting for the opportunity to speak. "If I were to escort this man and ensure he did your bidding."_

_"Nay!" The king interrupted as he whirled to face his son. "I have need of you here," he held up a hand as the young prince opened his mouth to protest. "And mayhap a few days in our dungeons will ensure this adan, encourages his colleagues prompt cooperation in sorting out this little, misunderstanding." He turned back to the merchant and grinned ferally. "I will allow you some time with your guardsman in order to appraise him of your instructions on how to effect your release. You will then have ample opportunity to ponder upon your fate should he not be successful." He then turned to the elves flanking the man and ordered, "Take him out of my sight before I regret my decision."_

_"Ada." Waiting until the merchant had been led away Legolas approached his father determined to be heard. "Why will you not let me go?" The question felt like it had had been asked a million times before._

_"You know why." Thranduil caught and held his sons defiant gaze._

_"I am not some fragile bird to be held in a cage, ada, " the young prince began earnestly. "I am capable of looking after myself." His eyes pleaded into his fathers for understanding but none was forthcoming._

_"I am aware of your opinion on your own capabilities, ion nin," Thranduils voice began to take on a harder edge, "How soon you have forgotten the way you almost allowed those capabilities to lead you into becoming a pawn in someone elses dark plans." Silence fell as the king realised too late what he had just said. _

_Steel shutters snapped down in the princes sky blue eyes and the colour drained completely from his face as he stared at his father in disbelief._

_"Nay, that will live with me 'til the end of my days." The softly spoken, controlled words belied the agitation within the young elf as he bowed formally. " I am sorry to have troubled you, Aran nin." _

_Turning swiftly on his heels Legolas walked away, before the crushing pain in his chest could bring him to his knees, leaving his father standing in anguished silence wishing he could call him back yet somehow not being able to make a sound._

_A formal letter had been pushed under his door the following morning informing him of his release to join Doronors company in their border patrols and he had not seen his father to speak to since._

_._

Returning from his memories to test the second blade and finding its keenness to his liking the young archer replaced it to lay beside its twin and took another scan of the camp. Most of his companions were either asleep now or at least resting and a peaceful quiet had fallen, broken only by the crackle of the dwindling fire as it ate up the remaining logs. He looked up as Doronor walked over, then watched warily as the captain bent to sit beside him. Care would be needed not to alert the older elf to his plans for warriors oft could read each others thoughts after many years of fighting closely together and they had become close friends as well as comrades which heightened their awareness of each other.

"Do you know something we do not?" The captain nodded towards the quiver full of arrows, a questioning smile upon his face.

"It is well to be prepared." The words were as flat and expressionless as the archers face as he reached out to unconsciously run his fingers through the feathered shafts in the quiver beside him once more as if needing the reassurance of their presence.

"Aye," the captain replied thoughtfully. "That is true though I trust they will not be required, I rather fancy a quiet sojourn this time. " He flashed a pointed look at the archer taking in the drawn cheeks and dark smudges that ever lately seemed to remain under world weary eyes. "A little quiet time would serve you also mellon nin, my friend."

A small smile graced the princes lips as he nodded briefly to his friend in an effort to allay the worry he could read within his expressive, green eyes before replying gently.

"With good fortune you will get what you desire mellon." He pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. "You should get some sleep whilst you may." His eyes closed briefly as if to signify his own wish for reverie.

With a nod and an answering smile Doronor stood and moved away then turned back briefly to address the prince once more.

"That is advice you should heed also hir nin, my lord"

Legolas stared at the captains back as the elf walked over to the sentry for a quick exchange then wandered over to the bedroll he had laid out earlier and lowered himself down upon his back to allow the stars to lull him into reverie as the prince had witnessed so many times before when on patrol. A wistful smile crossed his face as he wished that his own heart could be eased so easily by such a sight but the stars held no peace for him any more. In truth, it appeared that the only time he found peace from his tumultuous thoughts was when he was either truly exhausted past endurance or wounded enough to slide into oblivion. With a sigh he set to watching his companions hoping it would not be long before he would be able to slip away to hunt down the release he craved.

**TBC**

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**A/N **Many thanks to all those who have read/followed and even favourited so far. I am forever in your debt. :)

I hope you all continue to enjoy as it goes on. Although it is a slow starter it should pick up pace eventually, just need a little scene setting first ;)

Anyway. That was chapter 3. I hope it was OK but hey! Why not let me know by popping a few words in that little box at the bottom of the page. Go on. You know you want to. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The sound of hooves on the cobbles in the courtyard of the last homely house brought a few spectators to the entrance to see the new arrivals. Aragorn's heart filled with love as he viewed the place he had called home for so many years, then quailed in his chest when he espied the Lord of Imladris, standing slightly apart from the rest, on the steps before the large wooden doors his face a placid mask as ever.

Sliding down from the back of Elladan's horse he looked over as the twins dismounted Elrohir's fiery stallion. Having been on foot for so long the chance to ride again had been a luxury that Aragorn had enjoyed, although he hoped the twins had not found it too irksome having to share a mount for their journey home. With his feet back firmly on the ground he stood for a moment, feeling lost and unsure, to watch as the lord moved elegantly down the steps whilst the twins hastened to his side to be enveloped within a warm embrace. Hesitating with the uncertainty of his welcome he hung back, remembering all too well the comforting feel of those strong arms around him and not wishing to intrude upon their reunion, until warm brown eyes caught his with a gaze filled with such love it brought tears to his eyes.

"Estel."

The twins stepped back as Elrond opened his arms wide, smiling widely as he spoke the name almost like a prayer and Aragorn ran forwards, flinging himself into the elfs embrace, to clutch at him like a frightened child whilst tears poured down his unshaven cheeks.

"Ada." The one choked word was all he could manage as he buried his face in Elronds shoulder, inhaling the scent of the one who had nurtured him since he was a babe and whom he thought he had lost with his own stubborn stupidity.

Murmuring platitudes and gently stroking the young mans back Elrond led him indoors and along the corridors to the privacy of his own study, followed closely by the twins, feeling they all needed to be away from prying eyes for this most emotional of re unions.

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"Gone! What do you mean gone?"

Doronor quailed under Thranduil's thunderous gaze. The captain had returned to the kings halls four weeks after the patrol had awakened to find their prince no where in sight. A desperate search had revealed that his weapons and pack were also missing and with no signs of a struggle the obvious conclusion seemed to be that the archer had taken himself off somewhere on his own. A widened search of the area had revealed no further clues and the trees had either refused to tell or didn't know where he had gone and eventually Doronor had bid the patrol to continue without him whilst he made the trek back to face the king himself with the news. Wishing to keep the matter as private as possible he had requested a personal audience and thus they were now ensconsed in Thranduil's own study separated only by the width of his desk.

"He was gone when we awoke, aran nin, my king." Managing to keep his voice steady under the kings irate stare was becoming more difficult but the captain was determined not to lose further face. "He must have slipped away sometime during the night."

"And why would he do that pray?" Thranduils voice dripped with sarcasm. "Surely you do not suggest he would knowingly seek danger on his own?"

The captain opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again. How to answer that question, he thought to himself. It had been plain to him that that was exactly what the young prince appeared to be doing of late yet he did not know how to explain his fears to the king. He had been turning the problem over and over in his mind on the journey back to the halls but so far had come up with no easy way of broaching the subject. Taking a deep breath and hardening his resolve, he opened his mouth once more and was just about to voice his concerns when the door flew open forcefully enough to hit the wall with a loud bang.

"Aran nin, the prince!"

A distraught guard entered the room, heedless of protocol or niceties and rushed to the kings side almost incoherent in his distress.

"The healers. By the Valar. The prince. The blood!"

Faster than lightening Thranduils hand shot out and connected with the side of the guards face with a loud crack, leaving behind the scarlet imprint of its palm. There was a moments stunned silence as the incoherent elf regained his senses and his other cheek flushed rosy with embarrassment and shame.

"Calm down fool, or must I strike you again?" The guard visibly flinched and looked down to his feet as Thranduil continued. "You have seen my son?" The kings voice was clipped and icy, his eyes hard as chips of flint as he stared at the now quiescent guard standing in front of him. "Where is he?"

"He, he is with, with the healers Aran nin." The elf stammered out the reply keeping his eyes lowered. "They, they requested your presence urgently."

In two strides Thranduil was at the door before Doronor could move a muscle. Turning back he regarded the captain coolly for a moment.

"I will speak with you later, Captain." The way he stressed the ranking title Doronor wondered if he would retain it for much longer.

"Aye, Aran nin."

The reply was left unheeded as, with a swirl of aquamarine silk Thranduil disappeared rapidly through the open door, his heart beating wildly as he rushed to discover his sons fate.

It felt as if he had never been away. All of Aragorn's fears and misgivings had been swept aside soundly by Elrond's warm and loving welcome, leaving him to wonder why he had ever thought it would not be so. Seated companionably in the lords private sitting room with his brothers and the only father he had ever really known, a sense of peace wrapped itself around his heart like a warm blanket.

Sipping from glasses of warm, spiced wine the small family had eagerly shared the happenings in their lives over the fifteen years of Aragorn's absence. He had learned about all the comings and goings in the hidden vale, including the surprise bonding of one of the cooks with a healer well known to be a philanderer, oft heard to decry the need to ever settle down with one mate alone and the latest disagreement between Glorfindel and Erestor which astonishingly appeared to have something to do with the nurturing of roses.

The twins had related their adventures both at home and further afield in attempts to check the recent upsurge in orc activiy and the worrying news of how much said activity had increased. Describing, in some detail, their battles with the foul creatures, they had been hard pressed at times to prevail and if it had not been for the timely intervention of a patrol of Lorien guards at one point, after chasing a particularly large pack to the very borders of their grandmothers realm, they may very well have succumbed to death, or even worse, capture.

"The foul creatures grow bold if they roam so near to the golden wood."

The young man pushed down the fear that had arisen within his chest at the thought of what may have befallen his brothers as he continued.

"It would appear that nowhere is safe from their evil presence any longer. Whilst with my brethren we have encountered them in every corner of Arda we have so far covered."

He took a sip from his glass before relating the tale of the years he had spent with the Dunedain, all that remain of his kin, as he had ranged with them, fought beside them and been accepted into their tight knit clan.

The evening was growing long as the final tale was told and Aragorn yawned, able to hide his fatigue no longer.

"Come, Estel," The lord of Imladris smiled gently at his young charge. "You should get some rest whilst you may."

"Aye Ada, I had not realized how tired I felt until now." The young man returned the smile gladly, "'twill be good to sleep in a soft bed for once."

The three brothers followed their fathers lead as he stood and walked to the door. Once out of the study they stopped to bid each other a good night and Elrond watched contentedly as Aragorn, flanked by the twins, walked down the corridor towards the room he had called his own since childhood.

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Thranduil sat beside the bed, staring at the slight figure covered lightly by a thin, cotton sheet. He had arrived as the healers were just beginning a preliminary examination of his sons wounds and could not help the gasp of horror from leaving his lips at the sight of the bloodstained, marred body they were in the process of uncovering. It had taken all of his steely resolve not to thrust the healers out of the way and gather his son to his chest in the way he used to comfort him from hurt as an elfling. Instead he had watched silently as the archers body was washed, stitched and bandaged with the utmost care before being laid back on pristine sheets, without showing any sign of awareness or movement during what must have been a very painful process.

Assured that all possible had been done to aid the princes healing he had listened then as the healers had suggested that rest was the most important thing for him now and that his somnolent state was due to the mind deciding what was best for the body. He could only sit and wait for Legolas to awaken in his own time.

Watching the shallow rise and fall of the sheet covering the too pale body the king saw again the multitude of gashes and cuts that had been revealed once ruined clothing had been removed. The healers had convinced him that none in themselves should prove fatal, there was no poison and in fact, it was the blood loss that most depleted the young prince but he could not suppress the anxiety that kept clawing at his heart as he remembered the gory sight. His eyesight blurred with unshed tears as he momentarily allowed himself to wallow in the thought of might have beens before taking a deep breath and reaching out to clasp his sons limp hand.

"Legolas," the whisper left his mouth so silently he was unsure if he had voiced the name or not. "Ion nin, My son." His thumb tenderly rubbed back and forth over the back of the pale hand within his own as he waited, longing for some sign of returning awareness.

The lively chatter within the dinning hall continued unabated as Aragorn strode in, feeling more refreshed than he had felt in a good while, after a most restful nights sleep. Greetings were called out and reciprocated as he walked through the room to the high table where his family and friends were breakfasting and with a nod to all present he seated himself in the empty seat opposite his father. The twins were in their usual places flanking Elrond and the seats on either side of his were filled by Glorfindel and Erestor.

"Good morning ion nin," His father smiled widely. "You look as if you slept well."

"Aye, your eyes are no longer like dark pits." Elladan remarked evenly.

"And your face looks slightly less lived in." Elrohir broke in with a smirk then winced as a toe caught his shin under the table. "Aie, that was not nice pen neth, young one!"

The younger twin scowled across the table as Aragorn raised his palms and assumed an innocent expression before erupting into peals of laughter that soon had the whole table joining in.

"'Tis good to have you home Estel," Glorfindel laid a hand on the young mans arm and squeezed firmly. "If only to keep those two horrors from driving me to insanity with their antics." He nodded across to the twins who were doing their best to appear as guileless as babes but were not succeeding.

"'tis good to be home Glorfindel." A lump formed within the young mans throat and he had to cough to hide the hitch in his voice as he uttered the long unused words.

Helping himself to ham, bread and eggs from the serving platter in the middle of the table he settled down to a much heartier breakfast then he had known for quite some time and let the vague chatter from nearby tables wash over him as he ate. His ears picked out the odd word or phrase here and there but his mind was not really engaged until he heard someone mention Mirkwood. A sense of unease suddenly engulfed him and a frown creased his brow as he looked over at the twins.

"How does Legolas fare?" he asked quietly. " I have been remiss not to ask of him sooner." His eyes widened at the guilty glance the two quickly shared. "You have not seen him?" His frown deepened as they shook their heads in tandem.

"Nay," Elladan stated slowly, "We have neither seen nor heard from him these past few years."

"We have been kept somewhat busy Estel, as I should imagine, has he." Elrohir retorted defensively as he noticed the darkened gleam in the young mans eyes. "Remember time does not flow the same way for elves as men, it will have been just a blink of an eye to him."

"I hope he does not think himself abandoned," Aragorn replied in clipped tones as if to admonish his brothers then sighed as a wave of guilt washed over him. "Though in truth, that is just what I have done to you all these past few years."

"You did not abandon us, Estel." Elladan caught the young mans eyes with his own. "You only needed a little time to yourself." Held in his brothers gaze Aragorn read the love and affection freely shown within and his heart lightened once more.

"To discover who you are." The young man broke away from one set of deep brown eyes to encounter another as Elrohir joined in the conversation.

"I thought I knew who I was." He replied almost sullenly.

"Aye," the younger twin smiled sadly. "You knew who Estel was, " he paused to make the point. "But you needed to find out who Aragorn was."

The love and understanding held within the two pairs of shining eyes opposite almost took the young mans breath away. They knew him so well, this pair of fearsome warriors who had allowed him into their hearts. That they named him brother and bore him such unconditional love as was only given to family and the closest of friends had always brought a lump to his throat and to think that had not changed even after he threw it all back in their faces made him feel humbled in the extreme. He silently vowed never to give them cause for pain on his account ever again.

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_Please._

_Where are you? _

_W__here am I?_

_Grey mist surrounds me as I search for something maddeningly out of reach._

_I try to recall what it is I crave but my mind will not fix, keeps drifting away to watch the translucent tendrils twist and turn as if blown by a wind I can not feel._

_What am I doing here?_

_What am I searching for?_

_A sudden noise intrudes upon my solitude and I try to focus on its source._

_A word. A single word._

_Kinslayer._

_I curl into my mind and know this for the truth._

_._

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_._

Deep within the fortress of Dol Guldur the Witch King felt the touch of mind upon mind as he melded with his master to relay the progress made. He reeled at the sense of pleasure passed through their bond as his lord conveyed his most profound gratitude then hissed with pain at the threat of what would be if his machinations failed to come to fruition.

Stepping to the window in the highest room of the darkened ruin he gazed out across the malicious forest before him and smiled with the ghost of lips. It would not be long now. He knew the will he was pitted against was strong but relished the battle all the more for that. He shuddered with unexpected sensuality. It had been too long since he felt another as worthy of his attention as that. Anticipation gathered within his mind. The breaking would be so enjoyable, he almost wondered if it was worth keeping it to himself, not sharing it with his master until he had had his fill. His mind raced at the thought before he checked it. No, that could not be. Yet if he was successful maybe his lord would allow some reward, a taste of the beauteous beings splendour, a chance to feel once more the touch of flesh upon flesh that he had been denied those past centuries. A sudden need filled him and he strode from the room to descend to the orc pits in search of release.

**TBC**

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A/N I do hope someone is still reading this. I promise things will begin to get a little more lively soon :)

Thanks to those of you who are still reading and if you are why not let me know what you think. Good or bad!

Special shout out to cheekybeak for the review of the last chapter. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Slowly, sky blue eyes began to clear and focus as reality staked its claim on the young prince once more. A relieved smile flickered across his fathers lips before the regal features again became smoothed into their usual cool, detached mask just as Legolas comprehended his presence and he struggled to raise himself into a sitting position.

"Nay, Legolas."

Thranduil stood and placed a firm hand upon the princes right shoulder in an effort to bid him cease and lay back down, then flinched, unprepared for the flash of fire darted his way from his sons unusually darkened gaze. Fatherly concern was forgotten as his emotions were speedily shut away once more in the long maintained manner used to protect his heart from hurt.

"Let me be."

Sharply hissing the words and shrugging off his fathers hand the archer briefly closed his eyes before taking a deep breath then murmuring a soft apology. Upon their reopening his eyes shone once more with their usual clarity and he lay still under the kings regard as if awaiting judgement.

"How did this come to pass?" The words were spoken softly yet Legolas could tell from his fathers steely gaze that the storm of his temper was barely being held in check.

"Yrk!" The prince spat the word out with distaste hoping it would be enough to appease his sire but knowing it would not.

"I see," came the measured reply. "Your patrol ran foul of a band of orcs?"

Thranduils eyes never left his sons face and he registered the faint flush that tinted pale cheeks, the slight pause before the answer came. If he had not already spoken to Doronor he would still have known the lie for what it was.

"Aye, we were taken unawares."

The moment the falsehood left his mouth Legolas knew that he had made a mistake. His fathers eyes became icy pools, his face cold and unforgiving as he stared down at the bed, displeasure seeping from every pore.

"Do not lie to me!" Thranduils rage washed over the prince like a tidal wave. "How dare you lie to me!" He had no need to raise his voice, the words, cold and clearly pronounced as they were, were far more menacing than a shout "Do you take me for a fool?"

"Nay, I " squirming under his fathers gaze the archers mind raced, trying to decide what to say for the best. "Never, I, I meant to say."

"What?" Thranduil leaned down to bring his face close enough for the patently uncomfortable younger elf to feel the warmth of irate breath on his cheeks. "Think carefully before you next speak." He paused. his eyes boring into Legolas with a cold light. "I will have the truth."

"I was scouting. I crossed paths with some orcs. We battled. Unfortunately I was injured. There is nothing, more, to tell." The archer relayed the words in an emotionless monotone his heart chilled by the kings stare.

On waking he had for a moment thought he spied tender regard in his fathers face but the expression was so fleeting he decided it must have been caused by his own imagination and longing. This was no loving father gazing at him with concern, purely an icy king, regarding a subject who had once again failed to redeem himself. Legolas felt his heart contract as if pierced by a sharp needle of ice and could not help the small gasp that escaped his lips.

"You are in pain?"

Thranduil wanted nothing more than to hold his child tight yet dare not risk hurting him further so schooled himself to remain cool. The regal aloofness he had worn for so long now fitted him like a second skin and in truth, he did not know how to live without it any longer.

Thrust into a kingship he did not want after his father was slain more years ago than he cared to remember. Left to re group and rally all that was left of his people and bring them home to lick their wounds and recover in peace only to find that the fight was not over, only suspended. Forced into perpetual battle as his kingdom slowly succumbed to the darkness that should have been defeated all those centuries ago with only the strength of his own will to fall back upon and no trinkets of power to assist him he had become a most formidable being. Yet sometimes, as now, he wished he knew how to let go of the Great Elvenking and become Thranduil, the friend and father he knew his son craved but would never allow his pride to admit to needing.

"'Tis nothing, I am fine."

Legolas retreated further under his own calm facade. Years of watching his father had taught him well, how to cover all outward signs of emotion, any trace of weakness. He knew the second would not be tolerated and equated the second with the first. Looking up to the formidable figure leaning over him he wished with his whole heart he could do something to earn his fathers approval, if not love, yet knew he was tainted beyond repair. How could he expect anything more than contempt from this beautiful, strong, perfect being, after the grievous crime he had committed.

For a moment father and son gazed at each other in silence, neither knowing how to reach out to the other, both caught up in emotional traps of their own device. Too long had they kept their feelings in check for them to reach out, one to the other, and lower their defences. So their distance had grown ever further, their personalities abraded each other more and more until they had come to an uneasy truce which left them both with a feeling they could not quite place, as if a vital piece of themselves were missing but could not fathom what or why it was. They were alike in so many ways yet could not see it and these past fifteen years seemed to have taken those similarities and re shaped them into a gulf even more impossible to cross.

"In that case I expect you to bring a full written report when you attend me in my study after the healers give you leave to rise."

Drawing himself back up to his full height Thranduil once more shed his emotions and reverted to the regal persona of the elvenking.

"It shall be done, Aran nin, my king."

Answering formality with formality, Legolas gave a deferential nod and ignored another stab of ice in his chest at what he perceived to be further proof of his fathers disillusionment. He could only watch as Thranduil swept regally from the room without a backward glance.

"I am sorry Ada." The whisper was barely loud enough for his own ears to pick up as Legolas lay back down with a sigh.

He knew what he needed to do. He should never have come back here, should have kept true to his sentence. No matter what his father or Doronor said he knew what he was and could see it in everyones eyes. Kinslayer. Even his once upon a time friends had eschewed his company, though it hurt that they did, he could understand why. He had brought his shame to their lands, caused them to be insulted and mistreated within their own home. Was it any wonder he had heard naught from them since they last left him here fifteen years ago. There was only one way he could see that might earn him at least partial redemption.

Decision made he gingerly rolled onto his side, swung his long legs over the edge of the bed and pushed himself into a sitting position. Scanning the room he noticed a pile of clean clothing had been left on a chair beside the bed as if the healers had known he would be leaving today. A smile quirked at the corners of his lips. Of course they had, past history would have told them that they would be unable to keep him abed for much longer.

It took a while but eventually he was dressed and on his feet. Once he had begun moving it had become easier to ignore the aches and pains that lingered around the edges of his being. A more thorough examination of the small room had shown it to be bereft of any weapons and he hoped that this meant they had been taken to his own rooms for safe storage whilst he was incapacitated. With one final glance around he left, leaving behind the scent of herbs and medication that seemed to seep from the very fabric of any healing room and headed to his own quarters. He would most definitely be needing his weapons where he was going.

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"Tell me once again why we are out here instead of in the safety and comfort of our own home?" Elladan glanced over at his twin whilst wiping his sword clean on the ragged clothing covering the orc laying at his feet.

"Because Estels restless streak came to the fore once more and he thought it a good idea to go visiting." Erohir grunted with effort as he heaved another dead orc onto the heap already gathered into the pyre.

"And because Ada thought it wise to allow the residents of Imladris a little peace and quiet." Aragorn chuckled, remembering the most recent piece of mischief they had got into involving Glorfindels armour and a pair of the captains nieces.

"I can't think what you mean!" The older twin attempted to look affronted but failed miserably and all three dissolved into laughter as they remembered the fun and games they had had over the winter.

"I think that's the last one." Aragorn looked up as he deposited another of the foul creatures none too gently upon the considerable heap. "They seem to be growing in number again."

"Aye, and confidence," his youngest brother replied. "I have never known them so willing to face 'The Ravens' before," he frowned. "They have long been cowed by our presence but these creatures seemed most willing to fight us."

Crossing over to where the young man was now kneeling with his tinderbox Elrohir looked down at the small flame Aragorn had coaxed into life, watching absently as it was fed small tidbits of wood like a young animal being coaxed out into the open with edible treats.

"What were they doing here do you suppose?" he mused, almost to himself.

"What those foul creatures always do, muindor." Elladan joined them as the flame finally caught and began to lick around the edge of a misshapen leg. "Cause as much death and wanton destruction as they possibly can."

"Yet they appeared to be moving with purpose." Aragorn stood and surveyed his handiwork. "Almost as if being driven."

"But by who, or what?" the oldest twin rejoined. "And to where?"

"I can not tell the who or what of it," Elrohir replied quietly, "but the direction they were taking would lead them straight to Dol Guldur."

They stood still as each contemplated the meaning of the younger twins words and the pyre burned, the only sound the crackling and spitting of the bodies under the heat of the flames.

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High in the canopy at the edge of the great forest an elf stood, motionless, the green and brown he wore allowing him to blend so seamlessly with the tree in which he sheltered, that none would spy him there. The tree also aided the deception by using its leaves to mask as much of the elfs person as it could. Staring out from his perch, brilliant blue eyes scanning the ground below for movement, the elf grimaced briefly as the branch he was standing on suddenly dipped sharply with a gust of wind, then rose again, causing a sharp jab of pain along the newly healed scar down his left upper leg as he twisted slightly to stay in place. Finally, satisfied that there was nothing below he made his way back down to ground level, thanking the tree as he went, then moved quickly off deeper into the forest he called home, his bow and quiver bobbing on his back.

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Finally far enough away from the fire for the stench of burning hair and flesh to have been left behind the trio of travellers halted to take stock. They had none of them escaped from the recent melee without injury, albeit fairly minor. The worse being a gash about a hands span in length down Elrohirs left thigh from a mortally wounded orc who would not accept the fact that he was dead.

"No sign of poison thank the valar." Elladans relief showed as he finished cleaning his twins wound then stitched and bound it with a clean, white, strip of linen. "That should heal well."

"Hannon Le, muindor, "

Elrohir smiled although a hint of pain crinkled at the edges of his eyes. The wound, though not too long, had been deep enough to expose the bone in part and his brothers thorough ministrations, although necessary, had not been gentle.

Placing a handful of herbs into the pan of water simmering gently over their small fire Aragorn checked through the meagre stocks remaining and made a mental note of what would be needed to replenish their supplies. It would be another day before they reached the edge of the great forest unless they met with any further delays but they would not be out of danger then. No, he mused to himself as he repacked the various small packages he had pulled out of his bag, in fact, if anything the danger would increase. Satisfied that everything was once again safely stowed he decided that the herbs had steeped for long enough and carefully lifted the pan from the fire, setting it down upon a small, flat rock to cool down.

"I hope that is not what I think it is Estel." The slight edge to the normally light, clear tones was only noticeable to one listening out for it.

"And what may that be, gwador?" The young man emitted a guileless smile at his siblings statement.

"You know very well what I mean," Elrohir retorted with a raised eyebrow, "and don't assume that innocent air with me."

"If you mean that this brew will relieve your pain and reduce the possibility of infection then yes, it is what you think," Aragorn assumed an affronted air as he picked up the pot and swirled its contents around carefully before pouring it into a leather cup. "I can not consider what else you could possibly suppose I would do to you." Tilting his head and raising his eyebrows in challenge as he struggled to keep the blossoming mirth he felt rising in check, he handed the cup to the elf.

Sniffing the proffered concoction carefully Elrohir stared into his humans brothers eyes, noting the twinkle of mischief lurking within their grey depths. He paused to mentally consider the scents his keen nose could discern and, forming a conclusion based upon years of experiencing his fathers herb lore in action, eventually tilted the vessel to his lips, draining it dry in one, long, swallow before returning it to Aragorn with a flourish.

"So you do trust me after all." The young man smiled in satisfaction as he quickly placed the cup back upon the stone and stepped towards his brother.

"Nay," the elf replied with a grin, "but I do trust my own nose and the scent of my fathers medical teas, this one is as you say and contains none of..." His voice tailed off and Aragorn reached to catch the suddenly limp body before it hit the ground. "You.." Accusatory brown eyes glazed over and the young man gently eased his burden down to lay it on the bedroll quickly unfurled by the elder twin.

"I would not be in your shoes when he awakes, gwador," Elladan softly laid a blanket over the sleeping form. " How did you mask the scent?"

"Of the sleeping herb?" Aragorn smiled knowingly. "Just a little trick I learned in the north. Mayhap I will keep it to myself in case I need to use it again." He picked up pot and cup, rinsed them well with clean water then rummaged in his pack, bringing a slender bottle of amber liquid and a second cup that he held out to Elladan. "Miruvoir?"

Chuckling they sat and sipped the restorative whilst watching over their sleeping companion and sharing stories of the numerous times they had been on the receiving end of Elronds various medicinal infusions in the past.

**TBC**

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A/N

Thought I'd post this one a little early seeing as I have internet access and things are still moving quite slowly in the story.

Thanks to those of you who have followed and added the story to your favourites already and to each and every one of you for reading.

Special thanks also to 5-STAR, BlackMinx17 and WhyIsThatClever for reviewing.

Please... let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning - Violence and sexual reference contained in this chapter.**

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**Chapter 6**

Reluctantly pulling himself out of reverie the blonde wood elf sighed and mentally thanked the tree in which he had rested, for keeping him safe within its embrace during the deepest hours of the night. For so long now he had wandered far and wide in the perpetual gloom of the great forests thickest areas, hunting out and dispatching the orcs, spiders and other foul creatures that had had the temerity to invade his home and he was weary to the bone. He had lost count of the waxing and waning of the moon, the seasons changing, all he knew now was the next chase, the next fight, the next kill.

Clad simply in earth brown, torn breeches, his only remaining, serviceable clothing, his long fair hair matted and unkempt, his torso darkened with dried blood, mud and ichor, he sat, mulling over the latest attempt he had made to fill the emptiness within his heart and fea. The spiders had been most annoying in their lack of originality and cunning, falling to his blades with an abandonment almost orchestrated in its ease. Orcs were far more satisfying to hunt, at least they made an attempt to outwit him, even if they were too stupid to realise they never could. It made the game much more interesting.

His thoughts wavered slightly. A game. Was that all this was? He clenched his fists until he felt his fingernails dig painfully into his palms. No. This was not a game. This was, retribution, redemption. A necessary occupation in this time of creeping darkness, not something to be enjoyed or lauded for sport. He forced his hands to unclench and relax, unheeding of the half moons of blood welling from each abused palm and leaned his head back onto the roughened bark behind him, drawing on its offered strength. The greenwood would not fall further to shadow, not if he could help it.

Unconsciously scratching at one of the myriad of small, healing scars covering his body he contemplated his next move. Should he skirt back around the east side once more to check on the spider nests he had decimated a few days previously to ensure they remained abandoned or should he turn west and check the safety and wellbeing of the small hamlet at the edge of the forest where a few families of farmers eaked out a living. he tensed as a thumping noise caught his ears attention then slowed his breathing and stilled his body as the sound grew louder, he recognised the cause and had no wish to be discovered by its perpetrators until he was ready. Mentally begging the tree for its assistance to keep him hidden he watched intently as the small band of orcs passed below, counting and mentally assessing each one as they trampled through the area leaving a trail an elfling could follow. His lips turned up in a mirthless grin, anticipation building within him. This was more like it.

Decision made he began to make his way through the trees, a silent shadow of which the creatures were, so far, blissfully ignorant. Stalking the orcs as a hunter does prey the elf felt his heartbeat quicken with almost every step. His whole body began to thrum with excitement as he planned out in his mind the manner of each of their deaths. His hands reached back to caress the smooth hilts of his knives where they rested nestled in their sheaths against the quiver on his back. Close combat would serve his rising bloodlust better than the disconnected rush of an arrow.

The first four fell in quick succession to a single swipe of his silver blade across their throats as they meandered in single file at the back of the pack. There was no noise, not even a gurgle to note their passing and the others continued blithely on their way.

The fifth was briefly surprised to find himself staring into a pair of upside down, deep blue eyes as he moved under a low hanging branch. A pair of slender hands reached out, almost as if materialising from the tree itself but before he had time to register their owners intent, his head was taken in a deceptively strong grip and twisted, breaking the link between sluggish brain and body irrevocably.

Numbers six, seven and eight met their ends almost simultaneously as they all stood companiably relieving themselves around a large, elderly oak tree, which radiated disgust at the burning, liquid onslaught yet was somewhat appeased by the wood elf's retribution.

Nine and ten skewered each other after the elf dropped down from a tree between them brandishing his knives, then lithely sprang back up onto an obliging branch as they simultaneously thrust their long scimitars towards his guts. He nearly laughed aloud at the sunned expressions that twisted their faces in the scant seconds before they crumpled, lifeless, to the ground in a tangle of limbs. He felt alive.

Returning to the trees once more he decided that the odds had been shortened enough. He could feel the heated blood rushing through his body and needed the thrill of battle to quench its racing burn before he would be able to sink into the peaceful embrace of oblivion and escape his tortured thoughts.

Rough, guttural voices led him on until he was above the, now diminished, band of orcs once more. There appeared to be an argument taking place between two of the largest creatures with the others ranged around them in a rough circle watching with mounting excitement at the prospect of a fight. The air crackled with tension and the elf found his own heart beginning to race with anticipation as the pair became more irate and vocal then began to pace around each other, red eyes glinting as they spat out curses in the black speech, posturing and gesturing all the while.

With a speed belied by their bulk the two suddenly clashed together, claws raking over toughened hide deep enough to draw lines of black blood before springing apart once more, invectives flowing from their mouths, to circle each other again tauntingly. Four or five times this happened as if each was testing the other, looking for some sign of weakness to exploit and each time fresh gouges appeared on both forms. Surprisingly to the elf watching transfixed above, their onlookers remained quiet through each spat although some were visibly licking their lips as if they could taste the blood. The tension grew to almost unbearable proportions and he found himself leaning down from his perch, excitement gnawing his innards, blue eyes darkened with a feral gleam.

Just when he felt he would scream with frustration a roar suddenly went up from the crowd and the fight truly began. Neither creature bore a weapon apart from the long, sharp claws and teeth nature had given them but these they wielded as clinically as any scimitar or blade. Their fists and feet were as effective for bludgeoning as huge, heavy clubs and the whole of their bodies were used as battering rams. The watchers were making up for their past silence now and the level of noise increased as each extorted the pair to greater and greater violence. The ground grew slick with the black fluid that now flowed freely from both combatants myriad of wounds but they paid it no heed. The iron rich tang of blood lay thick upon the air and the elf inhaled deeply relishing the scent, amazed, as always that it should smell the same whatever the colour of the blood being spilt.

A sudden bellow of pain accompanied the first sign of ones ascendance over the other as a thick, gnarled finger was spat into the crowd, grabbed reflexively by a smaller orc then thrust into its waiting maw to be gobbled down like a sweet treat. Clutching its wounded hand to its over muscular chest the orc attempted retribution, missed its footing and slipped in the dark mud beneath its feet, toppling over, unable to save itself but lashing out with its whole hand to rake the other down the torso as it fell. It had barely made contact with the ground before the other was on top of it, biting and hacking with uncontained fury.

If there had been any to see the elf at this point they would hardly have recognised him as the fair, composed and elegant creature they knew. His eyes were darkened almost to black and shining wide with lust and need, his breath was ragged and a silvery sheen of sweat covered his bared torso, once sleek, fair hair clung damply to his scalp and shoulders. A pink tongue peeked out from between, and occasionally licked, lips reddened with blood from where he had bitten them to keep from vocalising his own pleas and imprecations. He had never seen anything so base, so primal and yet so absolutely thrilling before. In all the years he had fought the creatures he had never been witness to them fighting in this manner and he could not draw his gaze away from the mesmerising sight.

A roar of conquest and the loud cheer that drowned out the elfs own gutteral cry, indicated the end of the fight and as the winner stood, posturing over his defeated opponent, their hidden watcher gradually returned to his sense of self. Disgust and self loathing filled him as he leaned limply back onto the trees great trunk, shaking and spent, the stain of his own seed now added to those others already marring his once pristine breeches. He had never been so deep within bloodlust as to be physically affected this way before although he had heard of it happening to others. The Imladrin twins had themselves talked about such a phenomena overtaking them on occasion as they rode forth in the bloody years of retribution after their mothers abuse and departure but only in terms of their need for release after being embroiled in battle and never whilst simply watching others in deadly combat.

The thought of the dark haired pair brought their human brother to mind and a sharp pain ripped through his chest. If they had not thought him beneath contempt already the Valar knew how they would look upon him if they could see him thus. Shame painted his face scarlet. They were right to have cast him off, to have ridden away from the darkness within him those twenty years or more ago and never looked back.

Never had he thought to make a human his friend but there was something about this young man that spoke of greater things. Even before the twins had told him, in strictest confidence, of Estels true heritage he had seen the nobility etched within his features but it was his compassionate, giving, pure heart that had won the princes undying regard and brotherly affection and even now, for which he would gladly forfeit his life to ensure Estel endured.

He remembered the smiles and promises made before they left, how the days had seemed so long without their company. He frowned. When had he started to view time as a mortal would? Was it now his fate to ever rail against the passage of days, months and years where in the past time had simply flowed along, unremarked, season following season without end. It seemed so bitter now. This immortality. To linger on unwanted whilst other, more deserving beings grew old and withered into dust. The gifts given by the valar were indeed sometimes hard to take.

Gazing down upon the creatures, now sating their desires by consuming the bloody flesh of their fallen companion or sharing in that of their comrades in arms his bile rose. Anger replaced shame and grew as he remembered past torments and their masters plans for his use. Lhossons face was suddenly before him, staring with accusing eyes, revulsion writ loud upon its every contour. 'You did this to me', it seemed to say 'they used me and you let them, you are no better they, no, you are worse, for you are no mindless creature of the dark. You watched and took enjoyment from their depravity. You chose this path when you took my life. Kinslayer.'

"Noooooo!"

The bloodcurdling wail cut through the air like a knife as the elf leapt and dropped into the heaving mass below in a whirl of silver hair and blades. Like a demon possessed he ripped into the throng, slashing and hacking indiscriminately in moves faster than the eye could see. Caught completely unawares and busy with their enjoyments the orcs were totally unprepared for his blistering attack and the first few fell without even realising he was upon them. Those that eventually managed to gain sense enough to arm themselves however fared no better and soon the elf stood alone, breathing deeply, mired in a sea of black blood and gore, his fury ebbing away like the fluids soaking into the ground beneath his feet.

He was not like them, he was nothing like them.

Sheathing his knives, for once unheeding of the dripping blades, he turned his back upon the carnage wreaked and slowly walked away, the words running round his head in an unending loop. Exhausted beyond belief his body and mind craved rest but still he moved, stumbling over the ground in a manner completely inverse to his usual sure footed style until his foot caught in a trailing vine and the earth rose up to meet him bringing the welcome darkness of oblivion with it.

**TBC**

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A/N Thought I'd better put a warning up before this as I don't want to upset or squick anyone too much!

Thanks to all those of you reading and especially if you have decided to follow or favourite this story. Hopefully you are not now regretting that descision!

Special thanks also to Estaron, Nocx, and LegolasLover2003 for their reviews. They are very much appreciated.

So...dare I ask what you think so far? Please don't be afraid to let me know.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Aragorn observed Thranduil closely as he stood flanked by the twins, amid a sea of elves and men, at the foot of the dias in the throne room awaiting the kings pleasure. They had been brought here by a pair of border guards he did not know except by sight and was confused and a little dismayed by their apparent hostility. In fact, all of the realms inhabitants seemed unfriendly and most unwelcoming in their demeanours

"How much longer do you think he will keep us waiting here?" he whispered, barely moving his lips, watching the imperious elf as he conferred with one of his advisors.

"With Thranduil it is impossible to say," the low reply came from Elladan, on his right.

"' twould be far easier to guess when the moon will cease to rise," Elrohir added. "He will do as he will, as ever."

The king turned his head then to glare pointedly in the brothers direction, as if perceiving their words, before waving yet another petitioner forward from the crowd. Aragorn thought he saw the brief lift of a smirk at the corners of Thranduils mouth before he bent his head to listen to the man now before him but it was so quick to disappear was unsure it had ever been there.

Allowing the voices to wash over him the young man wondered again where Legolas was. Surely if he was within his fathers halls he would have come to meet them by now, the whole palace would have known of their presence as soon as they passed the border. He could only surmise that the prince was out on patrol and therefore ignorant as to their arrival, although he was certain he had caught a glimpse of Doronor in the corridor as they were shepherded along and usually the lieutenant was not far from his captains side. He sighed unable to hold his frustration in check much longer. If Thranduil did not speak to them soon he would march up to the king and take matters into his own hands, formality and protocol be damned.

"Estel!"

The young man felt a tug on his sleeve as his oldest brother pulled his arm. Thranduil had finally condescended to mark their presence and was regally indicating them to approach the throne.

.

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_Peace, blessed peace._

_All else fades away to nothing and I float. No sight, no sound, nothing but the darkness and I._

_Tendrils of midnight gossamer trail softly across my vision then slowly drift away waving gently as if to lure me on. I follow without hesitation, the sense of belonging rising within my insubstantial chest._

_My mind wanders as I am drawn along, a sense of familiarity, of belonging growing stronger as I move deeper and deeper into the dark._

_Peace. I know I need this but can not tell why. All I know is here and now and that is enough._

_Whispers begin to flutter at the edge of my hearing. Soothing. Caressing. A balm to aching heart and spirit. Carrying me away yet deeper into bliss._

_._

_Suddenly a flare of angry red appears within the tranquil inky black and I recoil, my mind confused, my heart trembling with some emotion I can not name. _

_I tumble, falling upwards as the crimson fire grows, surrounding me, caging me and I am lashing out with limbs I can not feel, needing to grasp a lifeline as insubstantial as smoke, fighting hard to quell what I remember now is called fear before I become engulfed and burn._

_._

_Then nothing._

_No pain. No feeling. No colour. No sound. Just nothing._

_I am lost._

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.

"So." Thranduil was towering over the brothers at his most majestic. His rich crimson silk robes shining with the spark of a myriad crystal diamond chips embedded within its fabric. "You have decided to grace us with your presence in the Greenwood once more." A hint of disdain threaded through the words like a creeping vine insinuating itself amongst fairer blooms.

The king maintained his regal facade whilst he descended slowly from his raised throne to stand before them, and Aragorn experienced the usual tremor of unease he felt each time he was confronted by his best friends father. He always had the impression that, try as he might, he would always be just another 'adan' to the quixotic elf and would never come up to his exacting standards. No matter what he did or what his lineage was.

"What is your business in the Greenwood?" Sharp and staccato the question was fired out imperiously.

"We thought to come and visit with your son hir nin, my lord." Elladan made himself the spokesman, speaking calmly and with the slight bow protocol dictated when dealing with the lord of another realm.

"Hmmph," the king snorted regally, "It has been long since you last 'visited'," his dark brows lifted in emphasis as if to remind them of the tenure of their last sojourn within his kingdom.

"Aye, events have overtaken us of late," the twin replied cooly. "and we have been unable to spare the time for more pleasant pursuits until now."

"We also have been rather ... occupied, lately,"

Thranduil stared at the three brothers in turn as if trying to see into their thoughts and feelings then his eyes glazed over, as if he gazed straight through them and into a distance only he could see. The brothers shared an anxious glance. The quixotic king was just as likely to throw them out as welcome them if his mood was such that he felt the need.

"Come."

As suddenly as the word had left his mouth Thranduil had turned and in a flurry of crimson silk marched out of the room without looking back. Elrohir met Elladans eyes and raised his brows in mute query then both looked to their human brother before rapidly following in the kings footsteps.

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Sky blue eyes fluttered and opened slowly as if reluctant to face the world. A muted groan issued from between bloodied lips as a slender, grimy hand swept across a mud streaked brow sweeping way tendrils of tangled, once golden hair. For a moment the elf experienced a wave of disorientation as he felt hard, stony ground beneath his body instead of the lately, more familiar comforting bulk of a tree limb. Then memory came flooding back, bringing all the self disgust and loathing he had felt at his bodies unwanted reactions and if his stomach had had any content, he would have lost it there and then.

Swallowing bile rapidly he managed to force himself to his feet and fumbled the waterskin free from his belt. Taking a sparing draught from the almost empty vessel he scanned his surroundings, amazed at the fact that he had lain, for what must have been a good few hours out in the open, completely at the mercy of any passing creature without coming to any harm. Maybe he wasn't quite completely forsaken by the Valar yet.

The aches and stings of the various new cuts and bruises received in the previous skirmish began to make themselves known but he pushed them aside vigorously. He did not have the time or inclination to deal with the injuries now, finding water was a priority closely followed by safe shelter in which he could check his injuries and plan his next moves, and in this forest that was easier said than done.

With a sigh he decided upon a direction to follow and headed off down an insignificant path which would have been invisible to all but the most experienced of elven trackers, he had only a few hours of daylight left to him and it would do to waste none. As he moved he felt something tug at the corners of his mind, a vague dreamlike, shadow but the more he tried to take notice the further away it skittered, just out of reach and he soon gave up the attempt. If it was important it would make itself known eventually. He switched his attention to the track before him and the surrounding forest, melting silently into the shadows, his senses once more alert for danger and possible attack. The forest was no place to relax your guard for long.

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Standing before the desk in the elven kings study the brothers felt like younglings once more, called before their father to account for some mischievous prank and Aragorn found himself looking down at the intricately designed woven rug, fingering the hem of his tunic and shuffling his feet nervously. He could feel the twins, on either side of him doing the same and it made him smile to think that these two great warriors could be reduced once more to elflings so easily by the irascible monarch. If the orcs could see them now they would never be intimidated by the ones they called The Ravens again.

"So," Thranduil at last broke the uncomfortable silence, his voice calm and measured. "You have come to visit my son."

Aragorn raised his head to find the king had taken a seat behind the desk and was perusing them with his icy stare, chin resting on long, slender steepled fingers.

"Aye, hir nin, my lord." The twins voiced in unison.

Aragorn nodded in agreement and was surprised to see the sudden slump of the kings shoulders and the pained expression that replaced his usual cool mask. A long, weary sigh passed Thranduils lips and for the first time the young man saw a hint of worry in his usually steely blue eyes.

"Has something happened to Legolas?" Aragorn blurted out as his heart turned over in his chest. "Where is he?"

His anxious eyes raked the room as if the archer would suddenly appear from behind one of the intricately carved stone trees that rose from the floor and arched over the ceiling, their malachite inlaid leaves so realistic as to appear to be rustling in a light, summer breeze.

"That, I was hoping you could tell me." Thranduils voice was unusually quiet and halting.

His pale hand trembled slightly as he reached out for the decanter of ruby wine that had become a permanent fixture on his desk in recent months but withdrew it, balling his hand into a fist as if afraid that if he should once taste its heady contents he would not stop.

He left these halls some three years ago and there has been neither sight nor sound of him since."

TBC

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**A/N**

Sorry this is a short one guys but It just seemed like the right point to end on. I will be going away next Monday but will try to post another chapter before I go if not it may be 2 weeks before I can update again I'm afraid.

Must just say a big thanks to BlackMinx17 and LegolasLover2003 for putting fingers to keys and being kind enough to review. Also thanks to alphaomega27 for the favourite and kind words.

Thanks also go to anyone who takes the time to read and I hope, enjoy my scribbles. Hey! Why don't you let me know if you do. Or even if you don't. Constructive criticism is always helpful. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Floating in the cool, dappled water of a secluded pool fed by a small stream, golden hair drifting like pond weed around his head the wood elf sighed. It felt so good to be clean again. Languidly he sculled from one side to the other and back again, revelling in the peace and quiet.

He had discovered the sheltered spot whilst following a small roe deer in the hope that she would lead him to water and he had not been disappointed. Removing his weapons from his back in preparation for a swim he had noticed the black dribbles staining both sheaths and quiver and on withdrawal of his long knives was horrified to find them covered in dried blood and gore. To have neglected to clean his weapons after battle was unthinkable and shame had flared through him at the thought of it as he began the lengthy business of cleansing and restoring them to their former pristine condition. He had also taken the time to oil his bow, check his arrows and hone the various small knives he habitually carried strapped to his body, ensuring they were all ready for use. It was only when they once again met his exacting standards that he allowed himself to see to his own personal cleanliness.

Breathing in the cleansing scent of lush greenery mixed with the floral notes of the wild jasmine and roses that flourished along the bank he allowed his mind to wander briefly as if he were simply enjoying a relaxing day out with his friends. He could see them now as they played in the water, Elladan and Elrohir sneaking up on Estel to drag him beneath the surface, Estel calling out for him to help even out the odds against his unruly brothers. The three of them splashing and tumbling in the water, laughing and spluttering and shattering the peace whilst he pretended disinterest, plotting his own strategy to duck them all, then finding himself held under by all three working together. It was all so vivid in his mind he laughed and turned around in the water, ready to catch them as they came up behind him, only to gasp at the sudden pain in his chest when he beheld the calm quiet of the empty pool and remembered he was alone.

Feeling the tell tale sting of tears he berated himself for his folly. Of course he was alone. He had forfeit the right to friendship with his own rash actions and the brothers he had thought to be ever at his side had shown the truth of this by abandoning him to his fate. He sighed. Part of him had believed at least Estel would return, would somehow see past the pain and betrayal to be able to forgive, but it was not to be.

Fifteen long years without even a note. His heart clenched again at the thought of the human he had loved as a brother. How fickle men were, he thought. His father had been right. Mortals came and went within the blink of an eye, unheeding of anything but leaving their own mark, fulfilling their own needs. He should never have allowed this man to get near to his heart, never have considered him any more than just a passing whim, one who would pass from this world in such a short time.

His mind stopped, retracing his thoughts and his eyes darkened. He was an elf in exile. A kinslayer. Time was irrelevant. Love and friendship were irrelevant, undeserved. There was only death. Death for the dark creatures that dared to invade his beloved forest and death for himself when the Valar so wished.

A splash at the edge of the pool caught his attention and he looked over to where a small water vole had jumped in and begun swimming across the width of the pond determinedly. He realised the sky was beginning to darken and making for the bank himself he clambered out near the rock where he had lain his weapons, wet breeches clinging to his legs like clammy vines wrapping themselves tightly around the trunk of a tree. Shelter was a priority now before he lost the light. Eyes scanning the area intently he strapped on his weapons once more then turned and looked back at the pool one last time in a determined effort to leave his past behind. He visualised the three brothers floating in the water one last time then turned his back and walked away into the forest once more without a backward glance.

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Aragorn opened the door slowly and peered into the room beyond. He felt uneasy, as if he were intruding where he was not invited. Entering quietly he glanced around, half expecting the rooms usual occupant to appear and sighed at his own flight of fancy. The rooms contents almost seemed to mock him as he stood there silently contemplating his absent friends whereabouts.

The room that was at once familiar and yet strange seemed so empty without the princes warm and vibrant presence, the usual clean, crisp air now filled with the scent of neglect. Bare and sparse, a warriors room, the only concession to homeliness a simple painting that hung over the bed depicting Thranduil holding an elfling Legolas tenderly in his arms against the backdrop of the great greenwood at night, a huge harvest moon rising above their heads lending them an unearthly glow captured beautifully by the artist. He smiled, remembering the first time he had set eyes upon it and the way Legolas had nonchalantly explained that it had hung there as long as he could remember and couldn't be bothered replacing it with anything else. Yet the soft and wistful expression on his face as he looked at the picture spoke more truth than the uncaring words he had uttered and Aragorn had divined much of the elfs relationship with his father from that moment. Moving over to the simple, wooden bed the young man sat and gazed around the room as if willing it to tell him where the prince had gone.

He had left Thranduils study with his brothers in a state of shock. The kings initial anger at their prolonged absences had given way to such anguished worry for the wellbeing of his son that Aragorn had never expected to see from the elder and it had almost overwhelmed him. He had finally realised that for all Thranduils regal hauteur and often icy mein towards Legolas he loved him dearly, so dearly that if it were not for the strength he drew upon from the greenwood, the king may yet have begun to fade from grief.

He had listened, with the twins, as Thranduil had talked. Holding nothing back. He had described how Legolas had at first seemed happy to be back at home, how he had seemingly enjoyed spending time with his father, assisting with matters of state that he used to profess mind numbingly boring, preferring usually to be out in the forest, a simple elven warrior, without the constricting trappings of royalty.

It hadn't lasted long however before he began to chafe at the duties and the rows had begun. Thranduil had wanted to keep him close to home, as far away from danger as possible. The risk of losing his only son made so real by past events that he couldn't bear to let him out of his sight. This he now realised would not have been a problem if he had explained his feelings to his son, but instead of adopting the stance of the caring father he had resorted, as usual to that of the King and had ordered his son to stay, causing even more friction and arguments until he had finally allowed him out on short patrols but this did not seem to improve matters, in fact it made them worse.

Thranduil had then succumbed to the call of the rich ruby fluid in the decanter his hand had been absently hovering over since seating himself at the desk, filling a crystal goblet to the brim and gulping down its contents twice in quick succession before sighing deeply and continuing. he then recounted the tale of their last meeting, the injured state in which Legolas had returned from patrol, his own anxious vigil through the night, the angry words and accusations born of worry and their stubborn pride, the hollow ache on discovery of his sons disappearance. A tremor ran through his body and the brothers stared at each other in consternation as his eyes fluttered closed as if he dreaded to look at them and see the condemnation he knew would be writ large on their faces. This was most unlike the usually brash and confident Thranduil they knew. This dejected, mournful elf was a stranger and one they were unsure how to help.

"Aran Thranduil." Elladan it was who managed to speak first. "Legolas is strong, capable, an excellent warrior, one of your best. He will be fine, I am sure."

"Have you seen this?" The kings eyes flew open wide as hope flared within him and he leaned forward eagerly.

"Nay, nay." The older twin had not meant to raise the kings hopes this way. "I have not the gift of my Grand dam, I only meant to say..."

"You offer platitudes and dreams, instead of deeds." Thranduil interrupted sharply. "Just like your father in past times." He swallowed another goblet of wine, and Aragorn watched a small droplet roll down the pale chin to drip onto the regal robes in fascination then wondered at the history behind the kings words.

"I only,"

"He only says what is true, hir nin, my lord, in an effort to allay your fears." Elrohir cut in, feeling the tension rising within his brother and wishing to maintain the peace, this was no time for allowing past grudges to reassert themselves. "As I'm certain my father would if he were here. "

At the mention of the lord of Imladris Thranduil stiffened slightly then sighed out once more as he caught the open, earnest face of the young twin who smiled gently opposite him.

"Aye," the king held Elrohirs gaze. "I'm sure he would, pen neth, young one." He turned his head to the elder twin, "Forgive me, I meant no insult to you or yours. I know you only try to help."

Elladans smile was slightly brittle but he nodded his head in acceptance of the apology.

"So, what would you have us do, hir nin?" Aragorn asked gently already certain of the answer he would receive.

"Bring him back," There was the glitter of unshed tears in Thranduils eyes as his voice hitched. "Bring him back safely to me."

The noise of the door catch rattling brought the young man back to the present and he looked up as his eldest brother crossed the princes room to stand before him.

"I thought I may find you here," Elladan smiled gently. "We are all packed and ready to leave."

"I just wanted..." Aragorns voice tailed off forlornly. He did not really know why he had come here, what he had been looking for when he had entered the room in the first place. Comfort? Reassurance? A message from Legolas, a sign to say he had been here and would return? Whatever it was he had not found it in this empty place.

"Iston, I know" his brother placed a hand on his shoulder and gently squeezed, understanding the turmoil in the mans mind without needing words. Aragorn raised his eyes and smiled in thanks.

"Come," the elf continued briskly in an effort to shake away the mans melancholic mood. "'Roh is waiting in the courtyard, he will be getting impatient." He winked. "And you know it is never good to keep our brother waiting."

"Aye," Aragorn replied with a small, rueful chuckle then stood and walked slowly to the door. "That is true."

Following Elladan from the room the young man paused briefly in the doorway and looked back at the picture over the bed.

"I will bring him back safely," he breathed quietly in a heartfelt promise both to the painting and to himself then turned and walked down the hallway after his brother.

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Silent as a shadow the young elf stood high in the branches of an oak tree and watched the spiders beneath as they spun their webs. The deeper into the forest he went, the more of the creatures he had encountered and although he could only count three here presently, from long experience he knew that more could be lurking out of sight, ready to leap into action at the first signs of attack. His eyes scanned the trees carefully, looking for the slightest signs of the creatures presence and was finally rewarded by a faint movement below and to his left where a dark shadow changed shape almost imperceptively. There was at least one other waiting to strike. He stood for a few moments more, planning his strategy and revelling in the mounting excitement welling within until he felt almost ready to burst, then without a sound leapt down to straddle the back of the creature directly beneath him.

The spider was dead almost as soon as the elf landed, his blade buried deeply in the small gap between thorax and abdomen, its life force spent in a fountain of ichor painting elf, tree and leaves deepest black. A laugh bubbled up from the warriors chest and burst out loud as he sprang from the falling carcass, grabbed the branch above his head, swung himself over it and somersaulted onto the head of another spider, narrowly avoiding its sharp fangs. Riding the bucking creature as if it were a branch waving in a storm he armed his bow with three arrows and shot down into the base of its skull, leaping away with acrobatic agility as it too began to fall to join its friend in a tangle of limbs and webbing upon the ground far beneath them. Ducking swiftly to avoid the sticky strands of webbing thrown towards him by the third spider he armed himself with his knives once more as the creature leapt forward and thrust out a thick, hairy leg to knock him from his perch. With one mighty downwards thrust the limb was severed and the wounded spider let out a high pitched scream in counterpoint to the joyous laughter still ringing out from the woodland warrior as he twisted, jumped and spun, his sharp blades flashing faster than the eye could see, severing each remaining leg one by one.

As the unsupported body crashed downwards the elf followed its progress with gleaming eyes, then dropped down to the forest floor to stand watching in fascination as the creature writhed in agony. His laughter stopped as he moved closer, eyes fixed as if savouring each and every contortion. Running his tongue over lips suddenly dry he felt his heart racing within his chest as he got close enough to reach out and run the blade of his knife down the bulbous abdomen drawing two parallel shallow lines of ichor from the beast which was hissing and spitting, its fighting spirit still strong.

A sudden noise behind him brought awareness back along with the memory of the remaining predator and he turned to find himself staring into its wide open maw, venomous pearls decorating the tips of its huge fangs. Dancing sideways he barely managed to avoid the snap as its jaw closed around the space his head would have been and cursing wildly he flipped backwards onto the writhing, legless body, sprung upwards, caught the branch above his head and swung himself up and temporarily out of the way. The spider followed, speedier than its bulk would allow but the elf was far more agile. Twin knives flashed once, twice and the creature joined its fellows upon the forest floor.

In the silence that followed the wood elf remained in the tree looking down upon the last dying twitches of the creatures below and revelling in the sense of satisfaction as he watched their lives ebb away, with eyes darkened almost to black, this was what he was created for. Sudden understanding swept through him. He was a warrior, a proven killer, he should not try to deny what he was, rather accept and embrace it. Use his skills as they were meant to be used. Seek out and destroy all those who wanted to invade and defile his home and if he found enjoyment in this then why not? It was only right to want to see his home restored to former glories he had only heard of in stories, only natural to revel in the fact that each creature dispatched brought him closer to this goal. After all, they were the spawn of evil, they did not deserve to live. He smiled thoughtfully as the last of the spiders stilled. maybe this life in exile wouldn't be so bad after all.

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It was working. The witch king stared out through unseeing eyes across the treetops. He had been sceptical when the master had suggested that it was possible, but he could feel it was working. The elfs natural defenses were being gradually eroded as grief, solitude, the constant exposure to battle, and lack of rest took their toll. It would not be much longer now before he could make the next move. A shiver of anticipation ran through his skeletal frame. He only hoped the master would reward him with what he so badly wanted., To feel again. To touch and be touched. A sigh of cold, foetid air breathed from under his hood. He must not rush, must time things just right or risk losing all and that he must not allow, no, he would be patient and bide his time, after all the result would be well worth the long wait.

TBC

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**A/N**

So here's a longer chapter to make up for the fact that I may not be able to post another for a couple of weeks whilst I am away. I must say though that I very nearly didn't post this at all and if it hadn't been for the kind words and support from someone I consider to be a real friend I may have just abandoned it all together after reading the comments left by Winterfell on chapter 1.

**So a big hug and thank you to LegolasLover2003 for being there when I needed her most. You are a very special person mellon nin. x**

Thanks also to all of those who are still reading and have favourited/followed this story. It is very much appreciated.

Thanks also to LegolasLover2003, BlackMinx17 and ijskonijntje for their reviews. I realise that the three year gap came as a shock to you all.

ijskonijntje - it is actually chronological if you think that Estel and the Twins spent about 2 years back in Rivendel then add the journey time from there to Mirkwood and it will fit.

I would just like to reiterate that this is a dark fic, with some themes some people may find upsetting or difficult to read but please do not judge the whole story by one chapter alone and remember it is a sequel so it may be of benefit to read The Loss first to understand how we have got to this point.

I feel a little scared to say it but please... Review and let me know how you feel it's going.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9.**

The forest seemed eerily quiet to Aragorn as his horse followed in Elladan's wake along the path which had narrowed down until they were forced to move in single file between the trees, Elrohir bringing up the rear. A week out from the Kings halls and moving deeper into the heart of Mirkwood he found his mind wandering back once more to the unusually emotional scene in the elvenkings study. Thranduil's initial hostility and regal hauteur giving way, so unexpectedly, to a sorrowful vulnerability he had never before displayed before the man. If he had not realised before that behind his stern, cold facade Thranduil loved his son, he would have known it then.

"Estel!"

If it had not been for the intelligence of his mount Aragorn would have continued straight into Elladan's horse as he reined it in to a halt.

"Sorry 'dan," startled out of his reverie the young man grinned as his elder brother raised expressive eyebrows. "My mind was elsewhere."

"Hmm, you should be concentrating on where you are going Estel." Elladan replied sharply. "How many times do I have to tell you? It is not safe to allow your mind to wander whilst out here, one.."

"Unguarded moment could mean my death." Aragorn finished the oft quoted sentence with a sigh. "I know, I'm sorry I was just thinking about Thranduil and how," he paused for a second before continuing. "Lost he looked. I've never seen him like that before."

"Aye, he was more melancholy than I have ever known." Elladan agreed as he dismounted his horse." I fear we must continue on foot from here, the path is becoming far too narrow for our mounts."

"It will become too dangerous for them soon also muindor, brother. We do not want them to become fodder for the spiders." Elrohir agreed.

In that case we must release them now." Aragorn spoke quietly as he slid from his mount's back. "In any case we can move with much more stealth on foot."

"I agree, Estel," Elladan nodded. "And we may need to avoid more than spiders whilst in here."

The trio began unbridling their horses, speaking quietly to them as they worked and telling them to head straight back to the kings halls and await their return. Soon they stood amongst their packs and belongings watching the animals disappear down the path, hoping they found their way back safe and sound and wondering just when it was that they would see them again.

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"You wished to see me Hir Nin, My King ?" Doronor strode into Thranduils study barely nodding in deference as he noticed the half glazed appearance of the kings eyes.

"Hmm?" the king looked up from his seat behind the large desk blearily then straightened slightly as the captain frowned. "Ah Doronor." There was a slight pause. "I wanted to speak with you." He reached out and picked up the decanter before him, then scowled as he realised it was empty. "This is empty." he announced loudly. "Why is this empty?"

"Probably because you have drunk it all hir nin." Doronor sighed.

"Well, tell Gallion we need more." Thranduil glowered at the captain. "In fact tell him we need two more." He smiled slightly lopsidedly. "You will join me in a glass won't you captain?"

"Of course hir nin." Doronor smiled gently. Thranduil had always had a reputation for being fond of his drink but he seemed to be depending upon it much more lately and the captain thought he knew the reason why that was. "I will call for him presently." He inclined his head slightly "But first, You wished to discuss something with me?"

"Ah, yess." There was a long pause as Thranduils eyes once more lost their focus and Doronor wondered if he had slipped into reverie.

He cleared his throat. This was worrying, the captain had never seen him this far into his cups during daylight hours before.

"Am I a good King, captain?" Doronor started at the sudden question.

"I believe so hir nin." He frowned not quite knowing what to say.

"Hmmm." Thranduils face suddenly took on a sharper appearance. "And am I a good father?" He leaned forward, peering up into Doronors face as if trying to read his thoughts.

"Well, yes, hir nin, that is. Mostly. I." He stopped, unsure of exactly how to contine the sentence as the kings eyes bored into him.

"Mostly." Thranduil rolled the word around in his mouth as if trying it out. "So there are times you think I am a bad father?" His dark eyebrows raised expressively and Doronor tried not to gulp.

"Nay, nay, not bad hir nin, just." Doronor's mind whirled as he tried to come up with the right words, mindful of the kings mercurial nature. "A little harsh?" He held his breath unsure of the reaction this would provoke.

"Harsh!" Thranduils eyebrows rose even further causing Doronor to take a backwards step. "Harsh?" A puzzled expression wove itself into his features and the captain unconsciously relaxed, drawing in a deep breath.

"Harsh." The king repeated once more then slumped back in his seat. "You are right Captain. I am harsh." he nodded and raised a pale hand to knead his brow. "But so is life." He paused to briefly stare into the distance as if at a scene only he could see. "It is a lesson best learned young, if we are to survive." The words were spoken so quietly, as if the king was speaking to himself, that Doronor wondered if he should perhaps slip away and leave him to his thoughts yet just as he was about to move Thranduil held up a hand.

"I should have held him back." The king was staring at the hand in fascination as he turned it slowly from front to back, almost as if he had never seen it before. "I should have held onto him, kept him in the pavillion, forced him to listen to reason." He appeared mesmerised by the turning of the pallid limb. "But I let him go." The hand limply dropped to the desk top and as Thranduil raised his eyes once more Doronor was startled to see them glistening wetly. "I let him go."

Confusion warred with empathy as Doronor stood there, trying to decide what he should do next. The king appeared to be expecting something but he could not for the life of him, work out what it should be. He was not even sure if Thranduil really knew he was there anymore. He opened his mouth to speak then shut it again, gaping like a fish in his uncertainty. He was definitely out of water here. This was a side of the king he had never before witnessed and did not think he would ever like to again.

"He will come back, hir nin," Doronor shuffled his feet uneasily as the gentle words left his mouth, "I know he will."

"What?" Confusion flooded Thranduils face for a moment then clarity rushed in to take its place. "Oh, you mean." He paused and leaned forward in his seat once more. " I'm sorry Captain. I did not mean to confuse you." The voice was once more controlled and clipped. "You mean my son I presume?"

"Aye, I thought." Doronor nodded and stared in awe as the King he knew so swiftly returned. "I thought that was who we were discussing." He frowned in confusion.

"Well yes, we were, were we not." Thranduils eyes, now bright and clear once more bored into him. "And you were about to order more wine also I believe."

One eyebrow raised imperiously and this time Doronor hastened to do his kings bidding. Striding to the door and pulling it open he quickly passed the request to one of the guards stationed just outside the room then returned to the desk, seating himself in one of the heavy chairs the king indicated opposite himself.

"You think me harsh Captain." Thranduil stated as the door opened and a slender elleth with a pretty smile walked in bearing a pair of decanters resting on an ornately chased silver tray. "Ah, Gallion has pre empted me again." He beamed at the young elf. "Nay, not over there." He gestured as she went to place the tray upon a cupboard near the fireplace. "Here! Bring them here girl."

The young elf carried the tray to the desk, set down the pair of decanters and two crystal goblets in the indicated spot, replaced the empty ones in their place on the tray, nodded deferentially then left, gliding as silently from the room as when she had entered.

"As I said," Thranduil waved his hand at the wine and Doronor reached across to pour two generous glasses of the rich liquid. "You think me harsh. Hard. Cold even" The king picked up his goblet and took a long draught staring at the captain over its gilded rim.

"Nay, hir nin I."

"I have had to be." Thranduil interrupted with a stern glare. " I had no choice," he continued. "After my father fell in that accursed charge, taking so many of our people with him what could I do? I had to be strong. I had to be harsh. I had to bury my own grief deep within or we should all have perished not long after." He took another long drink then waved the empty goblet and Doronor hastened to refill it, his own having barely been touched.

"The many must take precedence over the few Captain." The king began once more after another smaller sip of the ruby wine. "Have you not lived by that tenet yourself when leading your men? How many times have you had the need to chose between losing one or losing all?"

Doronor opened his mouth but could not protest. Faces flashed through his mind, a myriad scenes over hundreds, thousands of patrols played out before his unwilling eyes. Pictures he hated to recall yet which often kept him from sleep.

"Too many". He voiced, low and full of sorrow. "Far too many."

"Aye, too many." The king continued strongly, "And more of late it seems."

Doronor could only nod in agreement.

"I have to make that choice every day. Every time I send out a patrol or hunting party. I have to watch a portion of my people go valiantly to their possible deaths to ensure the majority of us survive. " He paused once more his face creased with pain. "Do you think it is easy? Watching as fewer and fewer return but knowing I must send them out again, even as they grieve for lost friends and comrades, or family members."

The last three words were spoken in a heartfelt whisper and Doronor felt an almost palpable air of grief brush his mind.

"I can not ask more of them." Thranduils face softened, "Much as I would wish it." His eyes filled with longing. " As much as I want to send them out 'till no stone is unturned, no corner of the forest uncovered until my son is found how can I? When so many have already died? " He picked up the goblet, swirling it between long fingers. " I can not." He inclined his head slightly. "So. I will have others do this instead."

"The Noldo." Doronor stated with understanding.

"The Noldo," Thranduil nodded. "And the adan. " They both raised their goblets simultaneously and paused in mutual agreement. At last Doronor could see through his kings reasoning. They shared a smile. The captain at last understanding his king and happy in the reassurance of his love for his son.

.

TBC

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**A/N**

Sorry this is later than I anticipated but in the end I had to practically re write this chapter because I wasn't at all happy with it. I hope it works for you.

So I never meant this chapter to turn out this way but Thranduil just wouldn't stay quiet. I guess he just wanted to explain why he seemed to give up on Legolas as easily as he did. I wonder who put him up to that? * stares at legolasLover and BlackMinx*. I hope you all don't mind the little interlude.

I must just say a big thank you to all of you lovely readers who have helped me pick myself up after the negativity and helped me re focus on the story. Your support has been much appreciated. :)

Special mentions go to LegolasLover2003, BlackMinx17, Estaron, leahtheresa, alphaomega27,Miracles in the dark and the guest didn't leave a name. Your kind words mean such a lot. :)

All that remains for me to say is hope you enjoyed it and please feel free to Let Me Know What You Think!


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

It was time. At last it was time. A sense of excitement awoke within him the like he had not felt for millenia.

"Scromagsh!" The commanding voice rang out like the tolling of a deep, death bell as the tall figure tuned away from the window. "Scromagsh!"

Just as the last syllable faded the door opened and a small, twisted figure sloped into the room. He hated waiting and they knew this yet still were not always fast enough to answer his summons although this latest one appeared to have more sense than the last. He had only required a second shout.

"Yes, master." The creature shuffled over and bowed low, his head almost touching his feet.

"Ready my horse." The deep voice echoed around the chamber, curt and sharp. "And make all ready for my return." He stared down at the still bent figure before him. "You have remembered my instructions I hope."

"Yes master." The small creature spoke clearly, and confidently. "All shall be prepared as you wish." He finally dared to straighten to what passed as an upright position for his maimed body.

"Good." The tall figure stared at the smaller for a moment. "You know what to expect if you fail me." The air in the room suddenly chilled and the short creature shivered.

"Yes master." He scurried out of the room faster than his looks would allow.

Under his dark hood the witch king smiled inwardly then swept out of the room to stalk down the corridors, his long black cape flowing behind him. This was going to be so very enjoyable.

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The small band of men were beginning to feel uneasy as they picked their way between the darkly forbidding trees, stumbling slightly over the raised roots and rabbit holes underfoot. They were well and truly lost and beginning to wish they had heeded the stories and never set foot in the darksome forest to hunt.

"What was that?"

The group stopped as the dishevelled youth currently bringing up the rear nervously called out, turning to peer behind him into the gathering gloom.

"I don't hear anything." A second, older man joined the first and stood in silence for a moment, head cocked to one side before continuing. "You're hearing things again lad." He chuckled and swatted the younger man gently over the head with an open palm then took hold of his shoulder and pulled him back along the trail.

The two men quickly caught up with the rest of their party and continued on their way, blissfully unaware that they were, in fact being followed.

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Sighing with frustration the blonde haired elf scanned the forest floor far beneath him, disappointment etched onto his face. It had been four days since his encounter with that small nest of spiders and there had been neither sight nor sound of any other creatures since. He had played the short fight over and over in his mind since then, the bloodlust rising again within him each time, yet so far he had been unable to quench its thirst. He needed more than just a few meagre spiders. He needed something that would put up a real fight and he needed it soon.

Resuming his search he leapt from tree to tree jumping ever wider gaps as the thrill of danger momentarily swept all other feelings aside until his keen hearing picked up the first faint echo of a distant sound and his heart missed a beat. At last! He sped onwards, heart beat rising as the noise grew louder and clearer, resolving into the tramp of heavy feet. Yrk!

Rushing through the trees intent upon reaching his prey the wood elf almost missed the small band of hunters wandering along the path beneath him and the single goblin that was creeping along in their wake. It was, in fact, the orc he noticed first, or rather its scent and as he spotted it lurking in the shadows his first thought was to leap down and dispatch it quickly before returning to his erstwhile pursuit but paused as he realised it too was watching something else intently. It was then he saw the men. Five of them. Walking along the path nervously glancing left and right occasionally as they went, yet apparently unaware of the danger they were in. He sighed. Men were so stupid. It was a wonder they survived as long as they did.

Turning his attention back to the orc he decided it must have been a scout from the main band ahead and on finding the small group of men had decided to keep them to itself. As he watched the creature edged forward, a look of greedy anticipation etched in its grotesque features, obviously planning on making a meal of the poor fools so ignorant of its presence. He silently crept down from branch to branch with barely a rustle until he was directly above the goblin. An arrow would have been quick and silent but he preferred to save his arrows where possible and besides, lately he found hand to hand combat far more satisfying somehow. He reached back to slowly unsheathe a knife, relishing the feel of cool ivory against the warmth of his hand, never once taking his eyes off the creature, noting the moment when it stiffened and sniffed the air finally realising his presence. Startled, it raised its eyes but it was too late, the elf was upon it, slicing across the toughened throat, drawing a line of black blood thick enough to silence any cry it may have made. Eyes widened in terror as it struggled to breath through the viscous fluid filling its mouth then bulged in horror as the knife turned to slash down its torso, liberating its innards and it frantically scrabbled with clawed hands, trying to keep its guts within its body. The elf smiled sweetly as he met the orcs eyes and held them with his own then brought his knife around in a blur of movement from left to right, neatly separating the creatures head from its body.

With a final flourish the elf re sheathed his knife and sprang back into the trees his body tingling with the lust for further combat. The sound of heavy feet in the distance was still audible to his sensitive ears and he hurried after the men as he realised they were heading straight towards the band of orcs, still oblivious to the danger they were in.

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Holding up a hand the hunter leading the band of men stopped as they entered a small clearing and turned around.

"I reckon we should make camp here and see if we can't have better luck finding our way out in the morning." He shrugged out of his pack and lowered it to the ground. "Maklin, you get some wood for a fire, Tomis, go see if there's any water nearby."

The two named men nodded and after leaving their own packs in the middle of the clearing set about their allotted tasks whilst their companions began unpacking bedrolls, blankets and cooking utensils. It was not long before Maklin returned with wood enough to make a decent sized fire and soon the four sat warming themselves in its flickering light, silently watching the flames and mulling over their predicament.

"Here you go." The tall, mousey haired man named Tomis called brightly as he walked up to his comrades swinging a pair of bulging waterskins. "Who's got the pan for water?"

"Me."

A battered, metal pan was thrust into Tomis' hand by the smallest of the group. A youth barely into his teens with gap teeth and ears that stuck out from under a mop of unruly black curls.

"Ta, Bat."

Tomis took the pan, filled it with water and set it over the fire to heat then began to rummage through his pack bringing out a few small packets wrapped in linen. When unwrapped they proved to contain some strips of salted meat and some dried fruits which he proceeded to share out equally amongst them all.

"Last of the food this." He stated mournfully. "We'll have to set some traps tonight if we want breakfast I'm thinking."

"Aye." The leader agreed. "Me and Maklin will do it after we've eaten, won't we Mack?

He looked over the fire to where the other was sitting chewing a piece of meat noisily and grinned as the man nodded back in agreement.

"How much longer are we going to wander about in this dismal place?" The young man they all called Bat wondered aloud, leaning back on his elbows. "I'm fed up of bloody trees."

"Shouldn't be much longer now lad." Tomis called out as he placed two handfuls of herbs into the warming water. "I reckon we'll be out tomorrow if we keep heading straight now."

"Good." the youth shivered "Gives me the creeps it does, as if someone's watching all the time."

"That'll be the elves." Maklin grinned, his face glowing orange in the light of the fire. "Them'll sneak up and spirit you away if you're not careful." He chuckled as Bat nervously glanced around the clearing.

"I don't believe you." the slight tremor in the young mans words belied his words, "And anyway, what would they want with us."

"Your life." the older man drawled out slowly drawing one finger across his neck as he spoke.

"W..why?" Bat queried nervously. "I haven't done anything to them."

"Haven't you heard?" The older man's grin grew wider as he looked around at the others obviously enjoying himself. "Elves don't die." He paused and raised his eyebrows at the blank expression on the others face. "Well how do you think they do that?"

"I" the young man shook his head. "Just do I suppose."

"Nah," Maklin went on, lowering his voice to a gruff whisper. "They trap a mortal with their magic and suck out his life to keep themselves young." He pursed his lips and made a loud slurping noise then laughed at the wide eyed expression filling the younger mans face.

"Give over Mack," The leader of the group chuckled. "You'll be giving him nightmares." He turned to the younger man. "That's only a story to scare children." Glancing back at the older man he continued, "We're far away from any elves here anyway, they don't come this far south." The men turned their heads as one to stare north.

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The elf stood above the camp site, silently watching the men below as they took their ease around the fire, disbelief written all over his face. Stupid. Men were so stupid. To light a fire and sit, drinking tea and chatting without setting a watch! In this part of the forest! He shook his head at their stupidity then turned his head to the south, the sounds of heavy feet were getting louder. It would not be long before even the men could hear them now. He wondered what they would do then and sat pondering his actions, tuning out their banal conversation as he thought, thus missing Macklin's grim tale. Should he drop down and warn them then head towards the goblins in an effort to lure them away or stay here and pick the orcs off as they attacked. If the men had not lit the fire and stayed silent there could have been a chance the orcs would have passed them by, unnoticed but he knew there was little chance of that now.

He stared down at the men once more, this time disdain flickering in his eyes as he realised they were all drowsing now and still had given no thought to setting a watch. That settled his mind. As an elf in exile he should avoid all contact with others where possible and after so long alone actually felt uneasy with the thought of conversing with these strangers. That they were actually contributing to their own danger through their negligence made his decision easier. He would be doing them a favour really by allowing the orcs to come upon them unawares. Besides, if he left them unguarded who knew what other creatures may decide they would make a tasty snack as well. This way none of them would forget the need for a watch in future and he could better ensure they escaped with their lives. He swung the bow from his shoulder and lowered himself down to sit on a sturdy branch, back against the trunk and long legs dangling down. Resting his bow lightly across his lap he settled into position and felt his heartbeat start to quicken as the orcs grew nearer.

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"What's that?"

Bat was the first to notice the distant sound, which roused him from dreams of home. He sat up, momentarily disoriented as he wondered why his bed was so hard before remembering he was lying on the forest floor instead of being tucked up in his own room.

"Jeb?" he called over to where he could hear the faint snores of one of his companions, "Tomis? Mack?" His voice became tinged with panic as there was no reply and the strange noise got loud enough for him to recognise it as the tramp of heavy feet. Throwing off the blanket he had been snuggled under he scrambled to his feet and rushed to the nearest shadowy hump he could see.

"Hey, wake up!" the youth bent down to shake whoever it was he had found. "Something's coming."

The dark shape grunted then suddenly sprang upright, almost knocking the young man over.

"Oh, Gods! " The single expletive was all Bat heard before he was pushed to the ground and the world descended into chaos around him.

TBC.

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**A/N**

Thanks to those of you still reading and especially to Miracles in the dark and Horsegirl 01 for taking the time to review. I really do appreciate it.

If you are still with me please let me know!


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Arrow after arrow was unleashed from his hidden position high in the trees as orcs swarmed into the mens makeshift encampment, felling the creatures with lethal precision, yet it was not enough. The men, disoriented and drowsy from sleep were completely unprepared for the attack and it showed.

Hunters rather than warriors, their weapons basic and their skills limited, if it had not been for the unseen elf they would have fallen in an instant. As it was, his judicious shots were enough to give them time to gather themselves and their wits and form some sort of defence.

Bat found himself unceremoniously hauled to his feet and pushed into the centre of a ring of cursing men as they tried their best to protect him from the onslaught. The short swords and knives they all carried were woefully inadequate to the task but wielded with a desperation that lent each of them strength and courage.

None of the men appeared to notice that more orcs were falling than they could reach, nor the arrows that brought them down. They were all too wrapped up in their own battle for life and killing the foe directly before them was all that mattered.

All too soon the elf reached back to remove his last arrow. Fitting it to the plain, ebony bow he had made to replace the beloved weapon broken at the ritual of his exile he carefully chose his target, a small orc who was trying to sneak behind the gradually opening ring to come up on the men from behind, then let it fly. The orc fell without a sound as the dart pierced its throat and was soon trampled under the feet of another, much larger, creature. With a smile the elf hung his bow from a branch, unsheathed his long knives and prepared to drop down into the fray.

Bat had never been so scared in all his life. Armed with only the short hunters knife he used for skinning and gutting small prey, he stood within the protective ring of his companions and gaped as the huge, creatures attacked. This was the first time he had ever set eyes upon Orcs, although he had heard tales of their malice and cruelty, which, until now he had never quite believed. He watched as Macklin narrowly avoided being beheaded by a large, grey tinged goblin with misshapen eyes then thrust his short sword up under its chin and twisted free as it collapsed sideways, knocking the creature next to it down as well. As they fell the man seized his chance and spitted the second orc before it could regain its feet.

There seemed to be orcs everywhere, and the noise! Bat wished he could cover his ears to block out the savage growls, curses and screams and the slick sound of steel slicing through flesh. He flinched as a long, sharp blade thrust past Jeb's guard, nicking the mans arm to draw a small line of blood before stopping just short of slicing across Bats face then clattering to the ground as the arm holding it went slack and the creature slumped down with an arrow in the back of its neck. A frown flitted across the youth's face as he briefly tried to remember who amongst them had a bow but quickly forgot about it as Jeb fell at his feet, a bloody stain running diagonally across his body from right shoulder to left hip. Uttering a strangled cry the youth felt the sting of tears prick his eyes and blinked them away furiously as he bent down to pick up the orcs fallen blade then turned and with a determination he never knew he had possessed hurled himself at the nearest goblin stabbing it squarely in the chest.

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.

Elladan stopped and squatted down to stare at the forest floor. "What do you make of this 'Roh?"

Elrohir moved to join his twin who pointed out the mark amongst the leaf mould that had caught his eye.

"It looks like more than one footprint overlaid upon each other." Elrohir said as he knelt to examine it closer, "Possibly three or four I think. In single file, it is difficult to tell," he reached out and traced the outside edges gently with his index finger. "Too heavy for elves."

"But not heavy enough for orcs," Elladan broke in, "I think it was men left these tracks, muindor, brother."

"Men?" Aragorn stared down at them, an look of incredulity upon his face. "What would men be doing this far into the forest?"

"That is what worries me Estel." Elladan frowned. "Either they are up to no good, or they are lost." he continued thoughtfully. "Either way it would perhaps be in our interests to follow them carefully so that we may find out."

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.

Without a sound the elf dropped from the tree straight in between a pair of orcs who were converging upon the youth he had picked out as the youngest and most vulnerable of the hunters. His long knives flashed in tandem, once, twice, and the creatures crumpled to the ground. Turning to the young man he smiled briefly at the open mouthed expression on his face then spun away, seeking another kill.

Bat shook his head, it had all happened so quickly. Had he really seen an elf kill those two goblins? There was little time to think though as more of the creatures seemed to be appearing all the time and before he knew it he was slashing and stabbing with his borrowed blade in a frantic effort just to stay alive.

The elf was in his element. Smiling widely he acted with precision. A cut here, a thrust there, always moving and always just out of reach of the orcish weapons. The attack grew more desperate as the creatures fell and those remaining finally noticed his presence. Thrusting a knife deep into a particularly ugly orcs belly he grinned as he twisted the blade then drew it up, effectively gutting the creature. Revelling in the black, viscous fluid that gushed out, coating his forearm like warm blackcurrant jam, he watched in fascination as coils of internal organs strewed out of the long gash, dangling to the floor like pallid vines. A sudden urge gripped him and he sliced them loose then bent to pick one up. It was warm and slippery, rather like a foul smelling eel. Turning suddenly he lashed out at the creature that had been trying to sneak up behind him. The long piece of gut in his hand twined around the goblins neck and without thought he pulled it tight, effectively throttling the creature. It gasped and scrabbled at its neck in a futile effort to slacken the noose, but the elf pulled harder and grinned into its face as he saw the beady eyes bulge and its struggles grew weaker and weaker until they stopped. Dropping the limp creature with a sly grimace he heard a sharp intake of breath behind him and whirled, blade outstretched to meet this new foe.

Bat's arm's were so tired. Unused to the weight of the heavy blade he had eventually taken to wielding it two-handedly but was finding it ever more difficult to raise it, never mind put it to use. It was such a relief when he realised that there was finally a gap before him not filled by a goblin and he took the chance to glance around, to check on his companions. Macklin and Tomis appeared to still be standing but of the others he could find no trace. The ground appeared to be littered with bodies and although both of his friends were still fighting a goblin apiece there appeared to be only four more alive and they were clustered together around a creature he did not at first recognise to be the elf who had startled him so by leaping out of the tree what felt like a lifetime ago. He unconsciously found himself edging closer and as he watched two orcs fell simultaneously to the elf's blades in a movement faster than his eyes could fully perceive. He felt his stomach rebel then as he drew close enough to bear witness to the third goblins, evisceration and swallowed hard against the rising tide of his previous, scant meal. The sight of the elf, wrapping the gruesome length of gut around his final opponent's neck then leaning in to smile into its dying face brought Macklin's story rushing back and he reeled in terror as realised he was seeing the tale brought to life. It truly appeared as if the elf was sucking the living essence out of the goblin! With a gasp he stepped backwards, tripped over his own feet as they tried to organise themselves to run away and found himself seated on the ground in a pool of congealing black blood with a long, silver blade resting upon his throat.

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Aragorn could not help the sigh that escaped his lips as his eyes scanned the parched ground beneath his feet. The three brothers had been quartering this patch for what seemed like an eternity now, trying to find the slightest trace that could lead them on the trail of the unknown men once more but it appeared to be a lost cause.

"Tis useless." Elladan straightened up from where he had been crouched, gently brushing the hard earth with his fingers in the hope of feeling something he could not see. "The ground is just too hard."

"But there must be some trace." Elrohir looked up. "They can not have disappeared completely muindor, remember Glorfindel always said that no one could move without leaving at least a small sign of their passing except,"

"Except for a wood elf in the trees." Elladan laughed.

"Aye, and that only because the trees would aid in their concealment." The pair finished together with a grin.

Aragorn suddenly looked up at his brothers words. Of course, how could he have forgotten! He had heard Glorfindel's little mantra enough times. He raised his eyes to scan the trees. The ground was too hard for prints but there could be other signs. he began to move slowly from tree to tree, scanning the trunks and lower limbs for any unexplained marks or scratches that could help them ascertain which way the men had gone and it was not long until he found what he was looking for.

"Here!"

The twins turned as one at Aragorn's shout and he urgently beckoned them over to where he stood carefully examining the bark of a large oak tree.

"They passed this way." He beamed at his brothers as they rushed over. "See, here, the moss has been scraped along this side of the tree." Pointing at the spot proudly he stood back to allow the twins an easier view.

"Hmmm, something has indeed rubbed against it." Elladan agreed thoughtfully. "But how can you possibly say it is them gwador? "

"Because," Aragorn's smile widened as he moved to the next tree "Only a man would write his initial in the bark of a tree."

There, crudely carved in the trunk of the tree was a rather misshapen letter B. The twins stared in disbelief at this blatant disregard for nature whilst Aragorn smirked.

"So," he chuckled. "Now the human has bested the elves and found the way, shall we continue?" He moved off, ignoring the pointed glares from his brothers. "From the direction of the scrape on the other tree I should say they went this way."

The twins shared a knowing glance then followed in Aragorns wake, each contemplating retribution upon their impudent, human brother.

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.

"What is your business in Taur-nu-Fuin?" The gore covered elf stated contemptuously his long knife firmly held against the quivering youth's throat.

"W, we, we." Bat stammered, trying unsuccessfully to ignore both knife and elf and bring his mind to answer the question. "Hunting." He finally managed to blurt out as the knife pricked a little harder.

"Hunting!" The elf scowled. "Hunted, would be closer to the truth." He flicked his knife upwards to lightly tap the tip of Bat's nose, replaced it in its sheath and reached out his hand to assist the youth to his feet all in one fluid movement.

Bat's eyes opened even wider and he shrank back in fear as, to all intents and purposes, the elf appeared to move in for the kill. He felt the pale hand grasp his arm and was powerless to resist as he was pulled unceremoniously to his feet. Held by the slender, deceptively strong grip his heart began to race wildly and, as a sudden warmth rushed down his trembling legs, he felt his knees buckle as they refused to hold his weight.

"You are wounded?" The clipped words held no concern in their question as the young man felt himself lowered gently to the ground and fingers begin to probe around his head and torso. "It is no surprise."

The elf's face twisted in a grimace of distaste at the acidic scent of the youths terror as he quickly scanned him for any sign of injury. Noting a splash of black gore upon his sleeve and the damp stain on the front of his breeches but finding no trace of blood he sat back on his heels and scowled.

"Nay, not injured, just scared." He stated with contempt. "And so you should be." He paused slightly to lean forwards once more. "There are many things in this forest that would kill you without a second thought."

A cold shiver ran down Bats spine as he saw a dark smile slowly begin to spread across the elf's face and he remembered the look of pleasure that face had worn as he throttled the final orc. He began to think that nothing could have been more deadly than the feral creature now observing him closely, like a cat eyeing a small mouse.

The elf licked his lips, soaking up the youths terror. He had never before realised just how tangible a thing it could be. How wonderful a sensation to create. With one word, one slight movement this man would do anything he asked of him. To have such control over someone's emotions was a heady experience and for a moment he was almost overcome with the need to hurt, to maim, to see just how far they could both go along this road. A physical ache began to grow within him and he leaned forwards, his eyes glittering darkly, mouth opened as if to speak. His hands reached out with a life of their own. Totally in thrall to the moment he failed to notice the tell tale sideways dart of the young mans gaze, then, in a flash of sharp pain, darkness suddenly fell and he knew no more.

TBC

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**A/N**

Ok so. I hope this isn't getting too much but I did say it would get darker and I'm afraid there is further to go down that path yet. It is in the title after all! :)

I would just like to say thanks to all of you lovely readers out there. I am presuming that some of those clicking on the fic are actually reading btw. Hope I am not just fooling myself. :)

Special thanks must go to Miracles in the dark,BlackMinx17, Horsegirl01, alphaomega27, estaron and the unnamed guest for taking the time to get in touch with a review it is very much appreciated guys. :)

***So that's it for now and remember. It doesn't have to be much, just a quick word to say. Hey. I'm reading this will do. Of course, it would be even better if you say 'I'm reading this and I like it'!***


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12 **

_The dark closes in and my heart sings. A sense of relief permeates my being and I rest, suspended in the peaceful calm that surrounds me. A thought swims through my mind, nudging at the edges of my consciousness as if for attention yet I refuse its reality. I have no understanding why it should be so but I do not wish to think._

_I float. _

_An eternity passes, or no time at all._

_There is only us. The darkness and I._

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Bat cried out in relief as the elf crumpled forwards. He had only spotted the tall figure creeping up behind the feral creature at the last moment, so transfixed by fear had he been.

"Mack!" He had never been so relieved to see the other man in his life.

"Hey Lad, did he hurt you?" Reaching down the older man helped the younger to his feet and stood, appraising him for signs of harm.

"Nay, nay." Bat gabbled in relief. "I seen it though Mack! I seen him do it, like you said! If it wasn't for you knocking him out like that I'd be dead as that orc."

Mack followed his gesture and felt the bile rise in his throat as he saw a goblin with, what he first took to be a pale rope, twisted around its neck, but on closer inspection turned out to be the intestine of another of the ugly creatures laying, gutted, close by.

"Calm down lad." He patted the youth's shoulder uncomfortably. "They can't get you now."

"Its not them." Bat turned huge, frightened eyes on his friend. "It was him." He pointed to the elf who remained unconscious at their feet. "I saw him Mack, just like you said. I saw him suck the life outta that orc." He paused and stared across at the dead goblins. A shiver ran through him as he continued, "And he laughed as he did it!" He began to shake uncontrollably. "And then he looked at me Mack, he looked at me, and I knew I was next. And his eyes were so dark but the smile. Oh Gods the smile." Tears began to course down his cheeks leaving white streaks in the grimy flesh.

"Hey, come now."

The older man placed an arm around Bat's shoulders in an effort to lend some comfort. He had seen this before, the shock that often came after a battle as you realised just how close death had come.

"Here. Drink this." Macklin smiled gratefully as Tomis walked up and held out a small flask. "Small sips mind." He said gently as Bat raised the proffered flask to his lips to take a drink, then sprayed it out again.

"What. Is. That!" The youth coughed out as the two older men shared a grin over his head.

"Whiskey." Tomis laughed as he thumped the youth between his shoulder blades. "Warm you right through it will."

"Warm?" Bat spluttered. "It burns!" He looked askance at the flask now being held out to him by Macklin. "What's that?"

"Water lad." The older man smiled. "Just water, it'll cool your throat off."

Bat took the proffered flask and sniffed it gingerly before taking a small sip. Once he was certain that it was, indeed, only water he gulped a large swallow.

"That's better," he grinned. "Thanks."

After returning the container to the older man his eyes once more returned to the prone figure at their feet.

"Is he dead?"

"Nah," Macklin nudged the elf with his booted toe. "I told you lad, them's immortal, he's just stunned that's all."

"What do we do with him now then?"

The three men stood staring down at the gore stained figure and Bat shivered as he remembered the look in the elfs eyes.

"Kill him!" The vehemence in the youth voice made his companions start.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea lad." Macklin drawled slowly, "Where there's one elf there's usually more, and we don't want to go stirring up more trouble for ourselves now do we." He glanced at Tomis who was carefully scanning the trees. "You won't see 'em if they don't want you to you know." The other man shrugged and looked back down at the elf.

"We should tie him up for now anyways." He began to remove his belt. "Just in case like. We don't want him creeping up on us again." He bent and roughly wound the leather strap around the elf's ankles. "Here, you do his arms with yours now Bat."

The young man hesitated for only a second before quickly unfastening his own belt and kneeling to bind the flaccid arms, grimacing at the black gore staining the pale flesh. With one last tug he pulled the belt tight enough to cut into the elf's wrists then rose to his feet and looked around.

"Where's Ail and Jeb?" The sudden realisation of their absence made his stomach clench and he looked over to Tomis, noticing the pained expression that quickly passed over his face.

"Ah, Jeb is, uh. " Tomis, unable to vocalise the words, gestured vaguely over to his right. "He's over there lad, he didn't, didn't make it." His voice petered out as the three men walked over to where their comrade had fallen.

Staring down at the sightless corpse Bat felt detached, unreal, as if none of this was actually happening. He saw again the orcish blade as it had swung down across his friends body, slicing the deep, diagonal cut, crimson blood spurted, garish in his minds eye and he felt again the certainty of death he had not wanted to acknowledge at the time. But he felt nothing. No sorrow, no pain, no grief. it was as if it were happening to somebody else and he was watching from the sidelines, not close enough to be involved.

"And Ailred?" Bat's voice was flat and unemotional, most unlike the normal excited chatter his companions had oft complained made them feel breathless for him. "Is he dead too?"

"I do not know," Tomis watched the young man warily, unsettled by his lack of emotion. "Though, I have not properly looked yet."

"Well, that's what we should be doing then," Maklin broke in, his falsely bright words sounding out of place amongst the dead orcs. "I reckon, he'll have been right in the thick of it, so that's where we better start." He placed a hand on Bat's shoulder and squeezed briefly. "Let's all look together, eh, he ain't going nowhere?" He nodded across to where the bound figure of the elf still lay insensate.

Bat nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed upon the corpse at his feet, as if he had not really understood the words and the two older men shared a knowing glance over his head before taking an arm each and gently leading him away.

Dead orcs seemed to cover the ground as far as the eye could see and the three men searched for their friend with mounting despair. Reaching down to finger an arrow, deeply lodged within the neck of one of the foul beasts a memory of the rush of air past his cheek, followed by the dull squelch of wood piercing flesh brought Bat's mind back to the battle and a puzzled expression settled on his features.

"I don't remember anyone bringing a bow." He stated slowly.

"None of us did." Maklin replied reaching to pull the arrow from its gory mark. "Elvish" he stated, examining the fletched end. "Most likely, anyway." He qualified as the others stared sceptically at him. "Definitely not orcish, too well made, and we didn't bring it so it stands to reason, must have been the elf's." He smiled, pleased with his own logic.

"C'mon, lets see if we can find Ail."

The search for their erstwhile leader would stay in Bat's memory for a long time, sending him nightmares at times of stress for years to come. The orcs had not died easily, or quickly and body parts lay strewn around the area surrounded by the black gore of their blood. Walking through the sea of mutilated flesh had Bat's stomach constantly rebelling and he eventually gave up trying to keep it under control, allowing it release behind the trees on enough occasions to leave him heaving dryly, and painfully, once it was finally emptied.

It was Maklin who eventually found what they had been searching for. Spotting the battered leather boots, too small to belong to an orc, sticking out from under the bodies of two of the largest goblins they had seen yet.

"You hold them steady lad." Maklin had told Bat as he and Tomis began to push at the huge corpses in an effort to roll them away. "We just need to Ughhh!" He broke of with a loud grunt as the bodies finally shifted to reveal Ailred's pale, motionless body.

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_Suspended my thoughts begin, at last, to probe the darkness that surrounds me and I realise I have been here before, memories begin to filter through, of peace, of ease, of a sense of belonging, of love._

_And of a voice._

_Faint, grey, smoke like tendrils begin to softly caress my face, almost too soft to feel, and a gentle breeze ruffles my hair. The wisps thicken and begin wrap around my limbs, pulling insistently, dragging me deeper into the darkness. For a moment I feel my heartbeat quicken as panic threatens to overtake me, I twist and turn, entangling myself further within the insistent bonds. I open my mouth to scream but then I hear it. And peace rushes through me. _

_Hush now, come to me little leaf."_

_And I let go, allow myself to be borne away. Safe in the warm cocoon of its love._

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Bat surreptitiously wipes his eyes as the three men stand looking down at the shallow graves they have managed to scrape in the packed earth, a distance away from the foul creatures responsible for their deaths. The last resting place of their fallen comrades. They lie, side by side, bronze coins upon their closed eyes, covered over by a well worn blanket, awaiting the final covering of soil and rocks that will, hopefully guard them from any scavengers.

Bat looks up as Maklin begins to intone a quiet prayer to ensure their souls safe journey, surprised by the gentle reverence within his, usually gruff and ribald, voice. Then as his words die away he bends down to scoop up a handful of soil and throws it onto the open grave. The other two follow his lead and for a moment silence falls, the trees still, birds and insects cease calling as if they too pay their respects to the dead.

"Aye, well." Tomis' voice grates after the lack of sound. "They won't bury themselves." Picking up the shovel usually used for digging traps for small animals, he begins to fill in the graves.

Eventually the task is complete and a single cairn of rocks covers the spot where both men have been lain to rest. The three remaining hunters stand in silence for a moment once more then Maklin turns to Bat with a grin.

"Right then." He pats the young man on the shoulder, "We best see if your Elf is awake yet."

"Oh!" Bat blinked in surprise. He had completely forgotten about the elf. "What if he's escaped?" He shudders and darts his eyes worriedly around the trees, imagining the terrifying creature sneaking up behind them.

"Nah!" Maklin grinned, "I hit him good, he won't know who he is for a week!"

Tomis laughed and they began to walk back to where they had left their captive but as they walked Bat's apprehension grew. He found himself stopping to look behind, the back of his neck prickling as if someone were staring at him from the trees, but each time he did so he could see nobody there. Shaking his head, he eventually decided that it was all in his mind and rushed to catch up with the two older men once more.

It was just as they had returned to the, mercifully, unconscious elf that the noise began. It was a loud, screeching wail like nothing Bat had heard before, rising in pitch until they each covered their ears in pain. It stopped as suddenly as it had started.

"What the ?"

"Run!"

Bat's expletive was drowned out by Mack's urgent shout before he was grabbed by the arm and pulled vigorously towards the cover of the trees.

"What?" The youth stumbled after the older man with Tomis hard on their heels. "Why?" He twisted to get free of Mack's grip.

"Don't ask lad, just run." Tomis called as he raced past them both, with a speed Bat had never seen from him before, encouraging Maklin to increase his own pace to match.

For a second Bat stood still, mind whirling, wondering what on earth had come over his companions before coming to and turning to race after his friends but as he did so his foot caught on a root, sending him sprawling to the ground. As he struggled back to his feet he glanced back the way they had come and his heart leapt into his mouth. There, standing like a statue beside the bound elf, was a tall, figure completely covered by a hooded black robe.

Bat shivered as the very air seemed to chill, standing frozen like a rabbit caught in a lantern's light then the figure moved and his heart began to pound within his chest. Unable to look away the youth stood transfixed as the cowled head slowly swivelled in his direction and he felt as if his soul was being searched by a gaze he could not see. How long it lasted he could not say, until the figure suddenly made a pushing motion with its right hand and Bat found himself flying backwards through the air, as an unseen force pushed into his chest, sending him crashing heavily into an oak tree. As his head snapped back to connect violently with the gnarled trunk in an explosion of stars he briefly wondered if he was going to die before his eyes closed and he knew no more.

TBC

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**A/N**

Another cliffie for you all. I just can't help it I'm afraid, but hey, we all love a little suspense don't we!

Thanks for reading so far and I hope I manage to keep you entertained.

Special thanks go to - high funcioning fangirl, estaron, superchick66, BlackMinx17, Miracles in the dark, Horsegirl01, and the anonymous guest for their kind words and encouragement. it really helps a lot to know you're out there with me guys :)

Again, thanks for reading and hey! You could always get in touch too and tell me how you think its going ;)


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13 **

_Deeper, deeper and deeper, entwined within the smokey filaments I fall and my body comes alive under their silky caress. Soothing whispers breathe around the edges of my hearing, unintelligible words that need no interpretation. I shift into the touch, as a myriad phantom feathers brush softly over every inch of my body, aching to feel more. _

_The darkness thickens and I bathe in its velvet ink. All thought flees, chased away by sensation, until there is nothing left but intoxicating pleasure. I arch into its enfolding embrace, desperate in my need to feel. My body thrums with life the like that I have never known before. _

_I feel the tension grow within me and through the haze of yearning hear once more the honeyed tones that I have longed for, for so long. _

"_Soon, little leaf, soon.__"_

_Stars shower down around me as I am carried away on waves of heated energy and I howl wordlessly into the dark as it drags me under once more._

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The witch king felt an intense anger rising through him when he saw the pitiful creatures who called themselves men approaching his prize. They dared try to claim him as their own! Dismounting his coal black stallion he stalked over to his goal, effectively cutting the human's approach off, letting out a long scream of warning, filled with hatred and ire, as he moved. They turned tail and ran. He could never believe how cowardly his race had become. How easily cowed and broken, and these were no different. For a moment he considered going after them and his armoured fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, but no, he thought, let them go, those frightened little mice were not worth his trouble. As he reached the prone figure, still unconscious on the ground he stood still, transfixed by the glorious creature at his feet. If he had breath he would have held it at the sight. Golden hair fanned around a face of pure perfection, marred only slightly by splatters of the black gore that also covered his lithe, well muscled and naked torso. He was even fairer in the flesh than in the visions his master had sent.

A slight noise at last interrupted his fascinated perusal and he slowly tore his gaze away from the elf to stare into the trees. A boy stared back. Anger built once more and this time he channelled it into the ring encircling his right index finger, allowing it to gather into a hard knot of power. Contemptuously he thrust his hand towards the youth and released the pent up energy in a surge which caught him directly in the chest, pushing him into a large tree with enough force to knock him senseless. Disregarding the human once more as a useless irrelevance the witch king then turned his attention back upon the fallen elf. Kneeling down he reached out one metal clad hand and gently stroked a pale cheek, then gathering the archer almost tenderly into his arms, he stood, calling for his mount as he did so. The sooner he could get the elf back to Dol Guldur the sooner the training could begin and the sooner he could claim his prize.

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Half aware, the elf felt himself lifted up and gathered into a close embrace but had neither strength, nor will to resist. Attempting to focus his mind was almost impossible as jumbled thoughts and memories raced through it in an incoherent blur. The only conclusion he could make was that he had somehow been injured, although he had no recall of the incident, and from the gentleness of the touch he felt he must be in the hands of either healer, friend, or both. He relaxed into the encircling arms as he was carried, neither knowing, nor caring where.

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Horse, he could definitely smell horse. Consciousness attempted to return again as the familiar scent and movement broke through his clouded thoughts. He was aback a horse, yet something was not quite right. Trying hard to nudge his mind into coherence the elf allowed his senses free rein. He could feel the powerful rippling of the animals muscles beneath him as it galloped along, jarring his body with each hoof beat. He blinked, attempting to focus unwilling eyes yet all he could glimpse was black, matt black metal on a glossy blue black material his disoriented brain finally realised was the coat of a horse. Comprehension dawned then, he was lain over the back of a horse, face down in front of the animals rider, but he had no idea why. The more he tried to focus his thoughts and solve the puzzle the more his mind became fogged and eventually he gave up once more, allowing the rocking motion to lull him back into sleep as the ground flew past unheeded.

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_Floating gently on a sea of cool darkness, rocked by waves topped with silver spume I lie in peaceful solitude once more. Surrounded by silence, my world again feels safe and calm and I bask in its serenity. A thought briefly flits through my mind that I should not be here, that there is something I must do yet I can not hold onto it to fathom what it means so let it go. It is easier that way._

_Time passes, or does not. The endless dark ebbs and flows and I go with it. My heart has ached for peace for so long and now it has found me I will abide with it as long as I am allowed. _

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The huge, dark horse stood, pawing at the ground, flanks dripping with sweat as his master dismounted, with the slightest metallic jingle, before reaching up to pull the animals other pale, unconscious occupant from its back. The journey had been fast and short, the thrill of what will come building with every jolt of the slight form settled across his thighs. Holding the limp elf against what passed for his chest, the imposing figure looked up at the tower looming over his head. Dol Guldur. The fortress built by his master on land once occupied by the silvan elves of the forest once called Greenwood the Great, now commanded by him in Sauron's name. If he could have smiled, he would. Lowering his gaze he marvelled at the fact that within his arms lay, at last, the means for completion of long held dreams. Another shiver of anticipation ran through his skeletal frame as he hurried into the imposing building.

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Cold. How can he feel cold? Shivering, the elf struggled to regain consciousness yet his mind felt as if it was filled with mist. He realised that the movement beneath him had changed and his nose was no longer filled with the scent of horse, but of decay. A sense of unease tickled the edges of his reason but it was becoming difficult to concentrate and a wave of intense fatigue washed over him. With one last effort he cleared his vision enough to see colours swirling before him and the knowledge that he was once more, being carried seeped into his fogged mind. His injuries must have been great for him to allow himself to be born into the healing halls in this manner. Relaxing into the arms that encircled him he briefly wondered if it was Estel that carried him so tenderly, before succumbing once more to the lethargy that dragged him back down into oblivion.

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"This way!"

Aragorn looked up at his eldest brothers call. They had been following the trail of footprints for three days now yet had still no clear idea of where they were leading. That the ground was hard from lack of moisture was not helping as the prints often disappeared completely for stretches at a time although, like now, they had so far managed to find them again eventually, to continue the pursuit.

"Are you sure 'dan?" Elrohir had joined his twin and now peered down at the faint marks upon the ground sceptically.

"Of course!" Elladan grinned. "I was always better at tracking than you muindor. Ow!"

"You are getting slow muindor" Elrohir smirked as his brother rubbed the arm he had just prodded hard with two pointed fingers then danced lithely out of the way of Elladan'sretaliatory backhand swipe. "See Estel, age is finally catching up with him." He lunged and tackled his twin to the floor.

Aragorn chuckled at his brothers playful teasing. It never ceased to amaze him how these two, centuries old beings, with such dark sorrow in their history, could transform from cold hearted battle hardened killers to fun loving, young elflings within the blink of an eye. He hoped with all his heart that it would always be so.

"Shall we continue then?" The young man's eyes twinkled as he regarded the twins who were now rolling over and over on the floor tickling each other mercilessly. "Or do you intend to stay there all day?"

He stood, staring down at the giggling pair, arms crossed over his chest trying to emulate one of Elrond's stern expressions but failing miserably. Sharing a mischievous glance the twins both suddenly lunged towards his legs and taking one a piece, pulled hard, bringing him, with a startled yelp, tumbling down to join them in a tangle of limbs upon the floor, all thoughts of footprints and missing friends temporarily forgotten under the double assault his ribs suddenly found themselves.

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Pain, excruciating pain ripped through his body, wrenching him out of his peaceful dreams and into a waking nightmare. He struggled to open eyes that, finally, he realised were already open, the darkness that surrounded him was no longer in his mind, and no longer a safe sanctuary.

He could feel the tight pull of chains around both wrists and ankles and as his mind attempted to make sense of where he was a bolt of liquid fire shot across his back. Confusion had him in its grip. Where was he? How had he come here? What was happening? The questions chased each other across his mind yet the answers did not follow and panic built as the fire spread.

There was no sound apart from the crack of air which preceded another bolt of pain and the clank of chains as his body convulsed in agony with each fiery outburst. Whip. His mind finally made the connection between sound and sensation. He was being whipped, but in his agony he could not remember why or by who and there was neither word, nor sound to aid in the wielders identification. He muffled a scream, biting hard onto his bottom lip, tasting the metallic taint of blood. He would not call out. Would not let whoever it was have the pleasure of hearing him give his pain a voice.

He felt the lash move down to land across the backs of his thighs and his knees gave way. He could feel the chains cutting into his wrists as he hung, suspended in the air, unable to support his own weight any longer but still refused to let any sound emerge from between his torn and bleeding lips. He could no longer think. All he could do was feel and that was an agony. The whip moved further down, across the backs of his knees, his calves, his ankles, then slowly it climbed once more until his whole body felt as if it was being consumed by fire and his mind finally gave up, sending him back into unconscious oblivion.

He did not notice when the lashing stopped, when his wrists were unhooked, when he was gently carried to a low pallet and laid down on his front, nor when cool water was splashed over his raw wounds, the chains removed and he was left alone again in the darkness of both mind and place.

It had not been easy to walk away, the sight of the elf writhing and struggling under his lash had almost driven him to distraction, and the blood! The sight and scent of it had filled his senses almost to the point where he would ignore his master to take what he wanted without care for the consequences. Yet part of his mind still clung on to the fact that if he waited, if he did as he was commanded, more would be available than just a fleeting pleasurable moment. To have the elf willingly consent, to be a slave to his punishments for all eternity was more than worth the wait although his need now was too great to be completely ignored. With one final look at the glorious creature he vowed he would soon own, body and soul, the witch king walked from the room and descended once more to the orc pits to sate his hunger.

TBC

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**A/N**

Just a quick note to say thanks to everyone still reading, I do hope I haven't scared you all away!

Special thanks also to those wonderful people who have taken the time to write a review - BlackMinx17, Miracles In The Dark and high funcioning fangirl. I'm glad you're still with me guys. :)

Remember - Authors live off feedback. It doesn't take much time to let us know how you feel so go on - you know you want to :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Warning - this chapter includes scenes of torture. **

**Chapter 14**

A faint groan left his lips as once more consciousness pulled the elf back from the comforting, peace of dreams. Confusion washed over him as his body registered its complaints and pain rushed back in. Trying to pierce the darkness that surrounded him yielded no clue as to where he may be and the only sound his ears could discern was the faint, distant drip, drip, drip of water.

He tried to move, to roll over from front to back but the sear of burning fire that accompanied the shifting of position had him quickly revert to his former, prone, position. Gasping at the air he forced himself to bring his ragged breathing back under control, his senses told him he was alone but he was unsure how much he could trust them at present and would allow no possible onlooker a glimpse of any weakness.

As his breathing eased and his heartbeat slowed the captive slowly reached out a hand to feel his surroundings. He lay upon a surface neither soft nor hard. There was a fabric covering underneath him rather than solid stone, yet it did not yield in the way of a mattress, therefore he was not on a bed. He stretched out questing fingers and caught an edge where the covering fell away and knew he was not directly upon the ground. Wriggling carefully, wincing with every move of his muscles, he inched his way closer to this edge until his hand was able to reach over it to the cold stone below, a pallet then, raised just far enough off the ground to prevent him feeling the chill of cold rock.

Stilling himself once more and exhausted by even that smallest of movement he lay for a moment attempting to gather his wits. Tangled images flitted across his mind but the more he tried to gather them together into a coherent string, the more they skittered away, out of reach. At last, his mind refused to think any longer and his eyelids grew too heavy to keep apart. With one last image of a young man he could not place, staring up at him in horror, he accepted defeat and slid back into unconsciousness.

The next time the elf awoke his disorientation was briefer and he noticed that the pain in his body had seemingly lessened. Easing himself over gently he attempted to pull up into a sitting position and had to stiffle a scream as the raw wounds on his buttocks and thighs rubbed against the fabric beneath him. It took a great deal of effort to bring his ragged breathing and the resulting nausea, back under control again, as he sat, completely unmoving, allowing his body to become accustomed to this new burning sensation. Moving his head in an attempt to find the smallest chink of light and his heart sank when he realised that none was there. He had never known darkness so utter and complete, even deep within the stone walls of his fathers halls light was encouraged to find its way. The intricate elven designs and dwarven workings having been carried out to give a light airy feel, reminiscent of living under the dense canopy of the Greenwood as it was in lighter times.

Resigning himself to the uselessness of his sight he concentrated upon his other senses, again the only sound he could perceive was the same steady drip of water as before and as hard as he tried he could make his ears hear nothing else apart from the slight sounds generated by his own breathing, or movement.

Sniffing gently, his nose picked up the slightly damp, cold scent of stone with the iron tang and slight acidity of, he presumed, his own blood and sweat. There was also the slight undercurrent of decay but it was so faint as to leave him unsure if it was purely a product of his over active imagination.

His hands smoothed over the fabric beneath him, feeling the uneven weave and patches of rough bobbling upon its surface lending credence to his initial impression of it being a woollen blanket, through which he could feel the flat surface of the wood that obviously made up the pallet on which he had been lying. His feet could feel rough, cold, stone floor beneath their soles and he realised that they were bare, then, with this dawning, came also the unsettling realisation that he was completely naked.

Trying hard to piece together the moments leading up to his present state he got no further than a vague recollection of battle and an unknown youth's face before the whipping that his body remembered only too well forced its way to the fore. He clenched his fists in frustration. How had he come here? Where actually was here? Why was he here? All these questions and more ran in circles around his head yet the answers continued to hide somewhere deeper within. At last, tired of getting nowhere with his jumbled thoughts he gave in to the urge for action and attempted to rise. Pain exploded through his body once more as abused muscles were stretched and pulled. Collapsing back down into a sea of fire, he barely felt the warm trickle of blood as it began to seep, once more, from re-opened wounds that had barely begun to heal and his mind gave up the fight to remain aware.

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_"Hush, little leaf, hush now." _

_The soothing susurration calms me as I awake from heated nightmares into the cool darkness I have come to know as my sanctuary. Lying back I allow the voice to wash over me with its loving caress._

"_I am here, little leaf, I am here.__"_

_Safe, secure and at peace I float within the rippling shades of my cocoon knowing I am not alone._

_The voice fades away and the darkness begins to deepen, joining with reddish tints to add a rich, ruby wine hue. I feel my body begin to warm and slowly the cool, restful dark gives way to a heated glowing crimson that begins to pulsate around and within, gathering intensity as initial pleasurable tingles of excitement give way to a deluge of intense, overwhelming sensations that carry all thought away._

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Screams brought awareness flooding back and for a brief moment the elf wondered at their source before the rawness within his throat told him that they were his and he was thrust one more into a waking nightmare of burning pain.

He was again suspended by chains around his wrists as his unknown assailant laid open the welts from his previous whipping. Engulfed in an agony of fire, it was all he could do to regain control of his voice but by a supreme effort of will he clamped his mouth tight shut, determined to grind his teeth into dust rather than utter another sound. As before, his abuser was behind him, out of sight, yet this time he thought he heard a faint, metallic jingle each time the whip fell. Struggling for coherent thought he squirreled the small piece of information away for future consideration hoping it may spark some memory or image to explain his present predicament.

The snap and fall of the whip became almost hypnotic as the elf's mind switched off and allowed his body to soak up the pain alone. The rush of air before the strike almost seemed to whisper the name he had once borne before his exile and felt he no longer deserved. Time shifted and he hung, suspended within a bubble of pain knowing that should he dare dwell upon it, the outer shell would burst and all the agony at present held at bay would come rushing back in.

Watching the crimson bursts upon the rippling skin under his sinuous, leather lash had the witch king almost crying out with pleasure. Each fresh stripe brought a shudder to his cloaked frame that he could not suppress and his chain mail singlet sang softly with each carefully placed stroke. The way the elf bit back his screams in mute refusal to acknowledge his pain fuelled his excitement. Here was such a worthy opponent at last, and the breaking of him would be immeasurably more fulfilling than that of any other in the past. At last the golden head bowed and the chains above it tightened, signalling that consciousness had once more fled the broken body and after a final lash across the two already bloodied globes of the elf's rear he lowered his arm allowing the whip to trail upon the floor.

Gazing at his handiwork he sighed then slowly moved forward until he was standing as close to the elf's body as he could without touching. He inhaled deeply, sucking up the iron aroma which contained a hint of sweetness he had never smelled from blood before. Unique. A perfect, unique being, and he was so close, so close. He leaned forward, unable to resist and parted his dried lips to allow the dark, blackened tongue within to gently stretch out. A taste. Just a small taste. His tongue quivered as it met the pale, cool flesh at the back of the elf's neck. Ah, so good. He moved lower to lap at the crimson stream flowing from the wheals across the creatures left shoulder and moaned softly. So sweet! So pure! He wanted so much more but knew that, for the moment he dare not take it. He must yet wait until the masters work was complete. But it was so very hard to stop, so very hard not to just take and damn the consequences.

Reluctantly he pulled back, he would not face his masters wrath. He would bide his time, then when it came it would be all the sweeter for the wait. Reaching up he unhooked the chains with one hand whilst wrapping the other arm around the elf's slight body in a gentle hug before carrying him back over to the blanket strewn, pallet to lay him down on his stomach. He stood staring down at the glorious picture of crimson and ivory spread beneath him as if trying to etch it into his mind then bent to pick up the pitcher of liquid he had placed there earlier in readiness. Pouring the fluid slowly over the open wounds he noted, with satisfaction, that there was no reaction from the prone figure. If he had done his job well, the elf would remain unconscious for enough time for the herbs infused within the water to take effect. Once the pitcher was completely empty he reached down to run needy fingers through the tangled, golden locks spilling around the elf's shoulders, wishing he could feel them through the metal of his gauntlets then suddenly straightened, spun around and walked out of the room without a backwards glance, leaving the mutilated figure lying on the soaked, cold blanket.

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Aragorn opened his eyes, sat up and drew his sword in one fluid motion before he was truly awake. His half elven brothers stood to either side of him staring into the trees above them, heads tilted as if listening intently. Knowing better than to ask, the young man threw off his blanket and keeping as silent as possible, rose to his feet, his ears straining to catch any stray sounds.

They had made camp for the night within a small hollow between two bramble bushes, ringed by tall beech trees. Aragorn had taken an uneventful first watch before his oldest brother had taken over and he had crawled onto his bedroll gratefully, pulling his blanket up to his chin in an effort to stave off the chill that had begun to nip in the air. Although now wide awake it remained dark and his body was telling him that he had only had a few short hours of sleep. Wondering what it was that had woken him he scanned the trees like his brothers, his body tense and on edge.

"Spiders!" The sibilant hiss came from Elrohir as he nodded to his left then looked at his brothers, his face twisted into a grimace of distaste.

Aragorn felt his stomach lurch, he hated the huge monsters that lived within the dark forest and would rather face orcs any day. Trying hard to pierce the night with eyes that were woefully inadequate to the task he knew he would have only seconds to react when they attacked. Although huge and bulky in appearance, the creatures could move with a speed and agility he had underestimated in the past, very much to his own cost. His mind went back to the first time he had faced them. Legolas had warned him but he had thought his, then new, friend to be exaggerating, playing a trick on the human, so had not taken it to heart. It was only when he had blundered right into the middle of a nest that the reality had hit him, literally, and if not for the archers timely intervention he would have become a tasty snack for the great beasts.

"They come!"

Elrohir's eyes narrowed as even Aragorn could now hear the clicking and rustling noises that heralded the creatures approach through the trees.

"How many?" the young man whispered under his breath.

"'tis difficult to count yet," the youngest twin whispered back. "But I would say at least four, maybe five or six."

Elladan nodded in agreement as the brothers closed together without thinking, in their customary back to back, defensive formation, swords held out in readiness. Aragorn's eyes rapidly flickered across the tree tops straining for the first glimpse of their attackers when he suddenly realised that what he had taken for a long branch, was in fact a leg as it suddenly stretched out as if to point in their direction, before the air was filled the furious clicking of multiple mandibles and a huge mass of elongated limbs, hairy body and sharp fangs launched itself directly towards him.

TBC

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** AN**

Thanks again to all you lovely readers out there and especially to those of you who have followed/favourited this story and to snoozinghamster (I love that name!),alphaomega27, Horsegirl01, BlackMinx17 and Miracles in the dark for letting me know how they feel about it all. If any one else feels they would like to join in please Feel Free to do so :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

****WARNING FOR VIOLENCE AND IMPLIED SEXUAL CONTENT****

**.**

Startled eyes flashed open just in time to see the great maw yawn wide, smell the rancid breath as it brushed across his face and instinct moved his body without thought. There was a flash of steel as he twisted away bringing an agonised shriek and a deluge of black ichor. Continuing his momentum the elf turned full circle, bringing the blade back around to slash once more at the already weakend creature, severing it's tenuous hold on life and it fell, twitching, to the forest floor with a sickly squelch. Scanning his surroundings he spotted two more of the great spiders approaching from either side in an attempt to snare him between them and he wondered briefly how they had managed to get so close without him noticing, before thoughts were swept aside in the battle to survive.

They kept on coming and his blades flashed in continuous movement feeling as light as feathers in his hands. As soon as he dispatched one it seemed another two took its place and the elf was beginning to wonder if the whole spider population of the forest had come to claim him. Covered in ichor and blood from the myriad small nicks and scratches he had acquired all the elf could do to was to keep going, he had lost count of how many of the repulsive bodies now lay lifeless under the trees yet still they came.

Smiling as he spun, twisted and twirled, instinct driving him on he felt the now familiar tingling through his body as the excitement of battle built. Embracing the feeling he allowed it to carry him along as one after another of the creatures met their doom by the edge of his knives. This was what he was meant for, what he lived for and as he attacked the last of the spiders in a gory frenzy, hacking off limbs and chopping at bodies he felt the tension within build to almost unbearable heights before succumbing to ecstasy as the final beast was felled and he collapsed, shaking and sated into dreamless oblivion.

Running through the canopy, springing from tree to tree, a nagging thought pushed at his mind but catching sight of his prey below him, he swept it aside to deal with later. The pack of orcs he was following appeared oblivious yet to his presence and he wanted to concentrate his attention upon keeping it that way for a while longer.

Picking up his pace, the elf hurtled through the trees to pass the creatures, ensuring he could gain the advantage of surprise when eventually he attacked. Once far enough in front, he stopped to ready himself. Choosing his position carefully upon a sturdy branch he nocked an arrow, then waited whilst the tramp of heavy feet grew closer and closer, fighting to quell the excitement he felt rising, causing his heartbeat and breathing to quicken.

There! The first orc came into his sights and never saw the arrow that lodged itself deep within the thickened skin of its throat. Without thought, more arrows flew as the elf's instinct took over, calming both mind and body in the flow and thrum of wood and string. Four more of the creatures fell in rapid succession before the others realised what had happened and a loud, gutteral voice rang out, warning them to take cover.

A flurry of lesser arrows then was loosed up to the spot where the elf had been standing but it was too late, he had already moved on, swinging from the canopy to land silently on the forest floor behind a pair of orcish archers so intent upon firing up to his previous position that the first they knew of his presence was the short, sharp pain of head leaving body as twin blades flashed in tandem. Turning to leap back up into the trees before the bodies had hit the ground the elf re-sheathed his knives, fitted an arrow to his bow and fired all in one fluid motion and another orc fell without a sound. Picking off the creatures as they stumbled about below him, he continued to shoot until the last of his arrows was spent then smiled to himself in anticipation. Now came the best part.

Unsheathing his deadly knives he spun them within his hands, revelling in their perfect balance as he chose his spot with care. He leapt, falling gracefully to the ground in a flurry of limbs and sharp edges, landing in the midst of the group and the real battle began. Twisting and turning, his knives flashing in a blur of movement he dealt out death and destruction with ease. He felt the swell of laughter bubbling up within his throat and opened his mouth to give it voice. The ground grew slippery beneath his feet with black orcish blood but still his feet flew, seeming to skim over the morass with the barest of touches. One after the other the creatures fell, yet always it seemed there were more to take their place. He fought as if possessed, his laughter ringing louder through the trees with each kill, his body thrumming at each spurt of fresh gore.

Sharp pain flared across his back causing him to gasp at the accompanying jolt of pleasure that surged through him as instinct turned him in time to deflect the next blow from a wickedly curved scimitar and decapitate its wielder. He panted briefly at the sensation before flinging himself back into the seemingly, never ending fight, barely dodging a slice aimed across his middle, feeling his excitement surge again as he stabbed the offending orc through the throat and felt the warm spurt of black blood splatter his face.

Pain and pleasure began to intermingle as the fight continued and his body continued to respond to the nicks and cuts he was now receiving, as well as the damage he was dolling out. A brief warning flittered across his mind but he had no time to think as the orcs kept up their attack and thought was lost within the continual dance for survival. Another burst of pain across his back caused his body to convulse with need and a feral howl left him as he eviserated the orc responsible and greedily watched its innards spill out in a glistening string. Caught up within the sensations that were fast overwhelming him now he slashed and stabbed maniacally, all grace and elegance lost in his need for completion. He barely noticed the creatures before him, only the blood as it flew through the air, painting him and all around with its thick black substance. Panting now his blades flew faster and faster until with a final swing he decapitated his final opponent and howled his release into the air.

It wasn't until he had collapsed to his knees, drained and spent and his vision had cleared that he noticed the body laying before him on the ground did not belong to an orc. Staring in confusion he took in the slight form dressed in brown woollen tunic and breeches, a short sword lying close to where it had been dropped by an outstretched grimy hand. His clouded mind struggled to make sense of what he saw. A man. Fighting with orcs? It made no sense, had never known it before. Looking over to where the head lay, tilted up with open eyes, he gasped. He had seen that face before. An image crossed his mind of his blade, pressed up close to a pale throat. A youth with wide eyes and large ears staring up at him in terror. His mind reeled in turmoil. What did this mean? He slumped forwards onto his hands and knees, trying to understand, trying to think but it was becoming hard to get his thoughts together. The world began to revolve around him and eventually he gave up, closed his eyes and let go, spinning into a dark void.

He was slowing, his whole body ached and felt leaden. Pure instinct alone drove him now, there was no thought except survival and even that was beginning to feel impossible. He had been fighting for so long he could hardly remember how it had started. The attack had seemed to come from nowhere, without warning and his patrol had been caught completely unawares. Now he was on his own, having become separated from the others in the fight and all he could do was hope they had escaped with their lives. Another blade flashed before him, its steel glinting in the sunlight as he parried its swing with a sword that felt strange to his hand. He tried to think, to work out where he was in reference to his fathers halls but the constant onslaught kept his mind too occupied with purely keeping him alive. He felt a sudden sharp pain in his back, between his shoulder blades and pitched forwards, stumbling to save himself from falling face down on the blood soaked ground. Another sharp pain, this time in his left shoulder spun him around and he fell to his knees. Using his sword as a staff he tried to pull himself up to his feet but his strength was waning and his head swam alarmingly. He heard a soft twang, his body jerked backwards and he looked down to see the shaft of an arrow embedded within his chest. His mind wondered briefly why there was no pain but the world blurred into grey and he could no longer focus mind nor eyes. A shadow then fell over him and he looked up into a face, etched with hatred and fear, staring at him along the length of a drawn arrow. The face was vaguely familiar and as his desperate mind searched for answers he could not find, the youth with the big ears let fly the arrow and the light of the world went out.

Staring down upon the naked, sprawled figure now lying gasping for breath on the pallet before him the witch king smiled inwardly. How glorious the elf had appeared a few moments before as he thrashed and bucked, held within the dual thrall of the herbal concoction poured into his open wounds and the projected images from his own mind. It had been so delicious, probing his mind, tweaking the images and watching the effects. That there were still some mental barriers in place was of no consequence, the isolation, starvation and physical abuse in combination with the herbs and mental manipulations would eventually allow him access to more than just a few recent memories and from then it would not take long to make him completely theirs.

He reached out a hand, longing to run it over the beautiful body but dare not touch just yet. It would not be too long before the effect of the herbs wore off and he dare not precipitate that moment, could not be present when the elf awoke. He inhaled deeply, taking in once more the sweet scents of blood, combined with the heady perfume of the elf's explosive release and shivered, the intoxicating sight and sound of the creature at the peak of his excitement indelibly imprinted upon his mind.

Raking the enticing figure with one last, lingering look he reluctantly turned to leave, reminding himself that this was only the beginning, there would be so many more moments like this to enjoy along the way to the culmination of the plan, when he could finally claim his prize. Moving away, his armoured feet echoing upon the stone floor he began planning his next moves. First he would need to report this initial encouraging beginning to the master but after that he would take a little time to attend to his own needs. Orcs were, after all, useful for so many things.

The elf awoke in the dark, panting heavily, his heart beating wildly in his chest, the faint echo of a sound running through his ears. The scent of blood, sweat and musk lay heavy on the air and his head swam with wild images he could not control. Confusion washed over him and he struggled into a sitting position, letting out an involuntary groan as his back complained loudly at the change of position and pain lanced through his body. Gazing around, trying desperately to pierce the dark he finally managed to bring his racing pulse and ragged breathing under control. The only sound now, that of water, dripping somewhere in the distance, bringing with it the memory of his plight.

Shaking off the images in his mind he concentrated on the sound for a moment, it was almost soothing in its familiarity. He turned his head towards the sound and winced at the sharp pull of pain across the back of his neck. Bringing one hand up to explore the area he felt the split skin, thick liquid upon his fingers. Bringing his hand back to his nose and sniffing gently he smelt the iron tang of blood, coupled with a faint herbal scent he did not recognise. Wounded. He had been wounded. An image flashed through his mind of a scimitar raised and waiting to fall but before he could pin it down it evaporated away like smoke. Had that been at his capture? For that is what he was surely. Captive

His fingers then began to explore his body, carefully feeling their way down his apparently unharmed chest to his flat stomach, stopping at the feel of the thick sticky fluid which appeared to be smeared well over it. Probing gently he could discover no trace of injury and was perplexed until he raised his fingers once more to his nose and was shocked to find, they did not smell of blood as expected, but of his own unique essence and a memory of lust in battle burst across his mind causing his body to twitch in reaction. Focussing once more upon the drip, drip, drip, of water he ignored his body and turned his thoughts inwards, shame making his face burn. How had he come to this?

His mind began to grow more and more muddled as he delved for answers. Pictures came and went, of spiders, orcs and men, of long battles and so much blood and gore. And pain. He remembered pain. All consuming, sharp, biting pain but it was all so disjointed. There was no coherent flow, nothing to show how or why just a continual need to keep fighting and above all one image kept repeating over and over, a face, the same face. In different postures, behind different weapons, but still the same face, with round frightened eyes, and tousled hair from which poked two large ears. A face which remained, staring at him from the dark long after all the other images had faded to nothing.

TBC

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**A/N**

I do hope this chapter doesn't come over as too much but I did warn you that this story was going to be darker than The Loss and I'm afraid there is even more to come! Rating has been raised because of this.

If you are still reading I thank you and would love to hear from you to know how you feel it is going. Please!?

Special mentions got to the lovely reviewers for the last chapter - Betsam0731, Horsegirl01, BlackMinx17 and Estaron Your feeback really help convince me to carry on. Thanks guys. :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

****WARNING FOR VIOLENCE AND IMPLIED SEXUAL CONTENT****

It was the lack of sound that roused his mind from wherever it had hidden. Nay, not complete lack, for the persistent drip still continued to drum its presence into his ears. The lack of other sound was what he now realised had brought body and mind back together. The lash had fallen quiet, and with it the assault upon his skin. He shifted slightly and tensed, expecting a wave of agony to flood his senses and was completely non plussed when it didn't come.

Frowning he risked another movement, easing himself into a sitting position and once more the lack of pain threw his mind into confusion. There had been a whip. He was certain of that. He knew not who had wielded it but had, most definitely, felt it's bite upon his skin. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He knew. But did he? The drip, drip, drip of water was not helping and seemed. in fact, to be getting louder. He placed his long, slender hands over his ears in a futile attempt to block out the noise and tried to force himself to think. To get past the monotonous sound and really think.

Slowly images began to come and the sound receded once more to the background. He remembered spiders, and orcs and men but could not think how they all fit together. Neither could he remember how he had got to where ever it was, he was but he had an image of a man that kept coming back to him. A young man and he felt that somehow he was connected to it. He was certain about the whipping too. He could hear the swish of the lash through the air, feel the burn as it connected, yet, there was no pain now. There was another small memory that kept chewing at the edges of his mind also but he could not see it, could not grasp it and every time he tried it moved, skittering away like a woodlouse rushing back to the comforting dark of a misplaced stone.

He realised then that he had risen to his feet and begun to pace, the cold stone floor rough and uneven under his bare feet. Bringing his mind back to the present he wondered how long he had been held. As if in answer his stomach suddenly growled in protest and he tried to remember the last time he had eaten but could not. His lips felt chapped and sore and when he attempted to run his tongue over them in an effort to add moisture it felt thick and dry, although thirst did not gnaw at him. One day? Two? He realised he did not even have the means to tell if it were day or night in the unending dark that surrounded him like a tomb and felt panic begin to well up within his chest. Forcing his breath to calm, his racing heart to slow, he began to pace once more, only this time he counted his steps, both to occupy his mind and to estimate the size of his prison.

Hands outstretched, he walked slowly away from the pallet until his fingers encountered the coarse, rock wall and he turned, placing his back gingerly against its unforgiving surface. It was cold, but not unduly so and although the uneven texture felt rough against his bare skin he felt no pain. Thoughts whirled badly through his mind once more and he heard again the swish of leather through air, felt the bite of lash upon skin and slowly sank down to sit upon the floor, hugging his knees as if for comfort. He remembered. He knew he remembered, and yet how could he have been subject to the whip and have no hurt to show for it? Laying his head down upon his arms he tried to think, tried to conjure some clue as to what had happened but nothing came, and the drip, drip, drip of water began to eat into his ears, worming its way into his thoughts until it overwhelmed all else. He never noticed the tears as they began to fall. Never noticed the sliver of light that suddenly appeared opposite to where he sat, slumped and dejected. Until a tremor of air washed over his naked form. Raising his head at this new sensation, water filled eyes fixed on the shimmering white line that seemed to hang in the air before him and he almost gasped aloud.

Rising inelegantly to his feet in a rush of hope he stared at the apparition wondering if it was yet another trick of his mind. Tentatively he took a step forwards, then another and another and the image grew larger. His heartbeat quickened with the raising and lowering of each foot as the light became larger and brighter, beckoning him on until he stood directly before it and held out one hand to allow it to bathe in its glow. He stood for a moment in contemplation, allowing his eyes to adjust until gradually he could discern that it was a door before him, and it was ajar. His heart leapt. Freedom! His captors must have forgotten to close the door properly. He could escape this dark place! In excitement he reached out to swing the door open, unmindful of the consequences but stopped suddenly as sense rushed back in to overrule his elated emotions and he let fall his hands to his sides, tilted his head and opened his ears to listen.

Standing completely still he strained to hear any noise through the small gap but could hear nothing still except the dripping water that had so maddened him before. His hands automatically rose to clasp the hilts of his knives and it was only when they closed upon emptiness that he remembered his lack of clothing and more importantly, his lack of weapons. He grimaced in frustration. Coming up against whoever had imprisoned him here was going to be so much more difficult unarmed yet he was a wood elf, and he knew he was just as dangerous without weapons as with. He fervently hoped that his adversaries did not realise this too.

Slowing his breathing the elf waited for his heartbeat to settle once more then reached out tentatively to push gently at the door. It swung open silently on well oiled hinges and he stepped cautiously forwards in its wake. When no shout of alarm or sudden attack followed, he pushed on it once more, easing it wider and stepped through the gap into a wide hallway, lit by large windows through which sunlight was streaming brightly. Blinded briefly he waited, hoping he had not been seen, for his eyes to acclimatise, blinking furiously and enjoying the feel of sunlight upon his weary body once more. Moving to one of the windows he basked in its warmth, before eventually being able to open his eyes fully and discover he appeared to be high up within the walls of some citadel instead of deep under the ground as he had assumed.

As soon as he had discovered the windows were too high for even an elf to jump from and survive, he began to walk, choosing a direction at random, along the long corridor in the hopes of discovering a way out. There was neither sight nor sound of any other being present and as he hastened along his mind briefly wondered at this but decided that for what ever reason fortune had turned in his favour and he must make the most of it. At the end of the corridor was a flight of stone steps and he silently padded down to the next level, his tension rising with every step. Another empty corridor brought another flight of steps and then another and another, continuing on until he reached ground level and all the time alone, with no sign of any other life at all.

At last he stood in a great hall way, with huge marble pillars stretching up to a high vaulted ceiling, decorated with a myriad of jewels of all colours set between golden leaves and vines. A grand doorway was at one side with huge, ornately carved wooden doors which opened wide to reveal a cobbled courtyard and as he edged towards it he could see beyond stood the forest, where trees waved and called to him to come out and join them once more. His heart sang and all caution fled as his feet sped across the paved floor towards the enticing view. Freedom! He could see it. Taste it and it felt so good.

He was almost there when the unthinkable happened. As his feet reached the doors they slammed shut, colliding with his nose hard enough for him to hear the breaking of bone and feel the warm gush of blood.

"Nooooo!"

His scream echoed around the room as did the thumping of his fists upon the heavy wood but they would not yield. In his distress he did not hear the tread of footsteps behind him until it was too late, they only registered a second before the blinding pain that stole all thought away and he crumpled to the floor as the darkness claimed him once more.

The pain in his throat echoed that across his back and he woke screaming into the dark. Where was he? What was happening? Images flew through his mind and he remembered the corridors, the hallway, the almost escape and as the pain grew he realised he was back in the dark, chained up and hanging once more, only this time it was different. There was no swish of leather through the air, no bite of lash across flesh. This time although there was burning fire, it was a trail of heat drawn slowly across his skin. Rather than the fast blast of heat from a sudden whip, this was the languid stroke of a blade, drawn out to inflict as much pain as possible and he had never felt its like before. Another stream of fire began to make its way from one shoulder to the other and he bit down upon his lip hard, tasting blood, determined to make no more noise but it was not to be. The pain grew and grew, spreading from shoulders to back, until a sudden cooling air blew across it, easing the burn and causing a shiver to run through his body. A fresh stripe across his hips was followed almost immediately by the soothing breath of cold and this time he could not hold back the soft moan that escaped him as his body twitched in response. The sensations began to mingle then, the pain of the blade with the cooling pleasure of the air and he found himself beginning to respond in ways he never thought possible. As blade and breath played in tandem across his body, a dreadful duet that he both wanted to continue and stop at the same time. His whimpers changed to moans, screams to pleas until the sensations overwhelmed him and the intoxicating combination carried him over the edge and into blissful oblivion once more.

It was the addition of sound that roused his mind from wherever it had hidden. Something had overridden the persistent drip of water that continued to beat in the background and as his ears strained in the darkness his mind tried to recall what he had heard.. This additional, soft grating sound was what he now realised had brought body and mind back together. He shifted slightly and tensed, expecting a wave of agony to flood his senses and was surprised to find it did not come.

Frowning he risked another movement, easing himself into a sitting position and once more the lack of pain threw his mind into confusion. There had been pain. He was certain of that. He knew not who had caused it but had, most definitely, felt a knife's burn upon his skin. Shame flooded through him for reasons he could not fathom and he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He knew. But did he? The drip, drip, drip of water was not helping and seemed. in fact, to be getting louder. He placed his long, slender hands over his ears in a futile attempt to block out the noise and tried to force himself to think. To get past the monotonous sound and really think.

A slight tremor of air washed over his naked form. Raising his head at this new sensation, wondering eyes fixed on the shimmering white line that now seemed to hang in the air before him and he almost gasped aloud.

Rising to his feet he stared at the image, wondering if it was yet another trick of his mind. Tentatively he took a step forwards, then another and another and it grew larger. His heartbeat quickened with the raising and lowering of each foot as the light became larger and brighter, until he stood directly before it and held out one hand turning it this way and that in it's stood for a moment in contemplation. Before him , he could just make out the sight of a door slightly ajar. His heart leapt. Freedom! Escape! In excitement he reached out to swing the door open, unmindful of the consequences but stopped suddenly as sense rushed back in to overrule his elated emotions and he let fall his hands to his sides, tilted his head and opened his ears to listen.

Standing completely still he strained to hear any noise through the small gap but could hear nothing still except the dripping water that had so maddened him before. His hands automatically rose to clasp the hilts of his knives and it was only when they closed upon emptiness that he remembered his lack of clothing and more importantly, his lack of weapons. He grimaced in frustration. Coming up against whoever had imprisoned him here was going to be so much more difficult unarmed yet he was a wood elf, and he knew he was just as dangerous without weapons as with. He fervently hoped that his adversaries did not realise this too.

Slowing his breathing the elf waited for his heartbeat to settle once more then reached out tentatively to push gently at the door. It swung open, slightly grating across the floor, on well oiled hinges and he stepped cautiously forwards in its wake.

The thin, deadly sharp blade had moved slowly across the pale flesh, almost like a caress and the witch king had watched greedily, drinking in the sight like a man dying of thirst. The small beads of scarlet that welled up in its wake had stood out sharply against the alabaster skin, glistening in the flickering torchlight. Each cut had been deep enough to draw a thin line of blood, enough to infiltrate the herbal concoction used to keep the elf deep within his thrall yet shallow enough to cause no lasting damage. It would not have done after all to send him to Mandos. The master wanted so much more than his death, as did he. He had licked nonexistant lips and leaned down to blow the tiny globules gently and watch them glide over the body, merging into little rivulets and running down to drip onto the blanket before he had dipped the blade once more into the thick solution he had concocted and continued striping the elf until he had writhed and screamed and he himself had shuddered in pleasure at the powerful emotions rushing through their combined minds.

Remembering that overwhelming moment he now stood entranced whilst the elf lay still once more and he began the process once more. Leading the elf along the corridors in his mind. Allowing hope to rise before crushing it once more and thrusting him back into the almost silent, dark prison of both body and mind. He knew reality and fantasy were becoming undifferentiated within the creatures mind and was certain it would not be long before the last barriers fell and he would be granted complete control.

Picking up the knife to begin the scenario yet again he decided that the elf had rested long enough and shivered in anticipation as he wondered how much more they could both take. Perhaps he would allow the illusion to extend until the elf had actually moved through the doors and into the courtyard this time

TBC

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**A/N**

Hopefully these last two chapters haven't confused you as much as Legolas!

I really appreciate how many of you are sticking with me on this story and offer you all my thanks.

Special thanks to Miracles In The dark, Obsidianglasses, BlackMinx17, bettsam0731 and the anonymous Guest for their great feedback. It's so good of you to take the time to drop me a line.

To the guest I will just say you are so kind calling me an excellent writer and as for how it ends. Well. I could tell you. ...But then I'd have to turn you over to the witch king to keep your silence!


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